House Call
by cress26
Summary: Alternate Universe: A raging snowstorm has an ailing Liz trapped with Dr. Raymond Reddington, who can't figure out what's worse: the snow outside or his patient's condition.
1. Chapter 1

Notes:

He has been so many things already: King, pirate, policeman, thief, mechanic, alpha, werewolf, cat, vampire, chef, security guard, admiral etc. But one thing is still missing.

A doctor.

I'm nursing this idea for a while now and thanks to heatherpeters' help and advice this story came out.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

The blizzard was a severe one.

The snow that had begun during the night had steadily increased and weather forecasts warned of a storm that might bring a thirty-inch snowfall later in the afternoon.

School bus driver Elizabeth Keen had started this morning on her established route through winding suburbs and packed urban areas in Washington D.C. to pick up children and safely drop them off at the front door of designated schools. However, she reversed the morning routine and returned the children back to their homes.

She had three more stops before the final drop-off, but with the large, heavy flakes being driven against her windshield by the wind and with the street already buried under more than a foot of new snow, she would be fortunate to make the trip in under a half hour.

The snow was wet and clumping at the windshield wipers. She sighed and leaned forward over the steering wheel, struggling to see her way. Driving had become extremely difficult in the past hour.

She was unable to share the enthusiasm of the children when it came to the storm. Their keen chatter concerning sledding and snowball fights echoed through the bus and made her long for her warm bed even more.

She didn't feel well. Two mornings ago she'd awakened with a sore throat and headache, which had only become worse. Today, she was burning up with fever as well, and couldn't wait for the end of shift. Thank god it was Friday and she would have the weekend off.

By the time Elizabeth reached the bus yard and parked the bus in the garage, the snow had increased in intensity, and accumulating at a rapid rate. She zipped up her jacket and pulled her hood over her hair, shivering.

She quickly headed to the driver's office to return the bus keys.

She was greeted by her manager, Donald Ressler.

"I'm glad to see you made it back in one piece. Weather conditions stink, and it promises to get worse – a lot worse," he grumbled.

"All roads are in poor condition. People are advised to stay home, and extra snowplows were ordered by the mayor. You need to get home, quick, Liz."

"I will, thanks Don."

She handed him the keys and turned to leave.

He looked at her, concern filling his eyes.

"You look like shit, Keen. Are you alright?"

Elizabeth gave him an unhappy grin and nodded.

"I think I'm coming down with a stupid cold, maybe that's why."

"Better rest on the weekend then."

"Yeah, I will…. Bye Don."

"Bye Liz, hope you feel better soon."

She left the office and trudged through the deep snow to her car. Thank God she didn't live too far away. Her drive home should be a short one.

She started the engine and put the heater on full blast, but it didn't do any good. She still felt chilled to the bone. Her throat ached and when she swallowed, it felt like liquid fire going down.

Elizabeth groaned, gathering the last of her strength as she started her homeward journey.

Relieved to be off the roads, she finally entered her red-brick, two-story, semi-detached house.

She longed for a hot shower, so she went straight into the bathroom after hanging up her jacket, stripped off her bus uniform and turned on the jets.

She stood under the nozzle for a long time, until she felt dizzy from the heat and the overpowering fatigue in both mind and body.

After toweling dry, she managed to don clean panties and a shirt before curling up under a blanket on her soft sofa in the living room. Almost instantly, she fell into an exhausted sleep.

Two hours later Elizabeth woke up coughing. She was drenched in sweat, aching all over and felt shaky and weak. She was burning with fever and her head pounded from a raging headache.

She struggled to sit up in order to take full inventory of her current state. She shivered, suddenly cold, as she gingerly reached for the blanket to cover herself.

Her gaze fell on her half naked form and her breath caught in her throat.

She was shocked to discover raised red bumps covering her arms and legs. Slowly, the reason for her sickness began to dawn on her.

It wasn't a simple cold like she had hoped. There were several cases of chicken pox among the school kids in the past weeks and it had probably passed on to her.

She'd always thought she was vaccinated… apparently not.

What should she do now? The high fever had her worried.

Looking through the terrace doors into the garden and seeing the snow accumulation, she knew it was impossible for her to leave the house in order to seek medical attention, especially in her frail condition.

If anything, medical help needed to come to her.

She carefully rose from the couch to find her smartphone. Every step seemed an effort; she was feeling nauseated and very ill. The spots on her skin started itching and she just knew this was only the beginning of her suffering.

Elizabeth searched online and found a "Doctor's To You" service for the Washington area. They offered medical house calls: Physicians who make house calls for patients with acute illnesses.

She dialed their number and was connected to an assistant at the main office.

"May I help you?" a friendly voice asked.

"Yes, I need medical assistance," Liz croaked.

"What seems to be the problem, Ma'am?"

"I think I have the chicken pox."

There was a pause, then the voice asked: "What are your symptoms please?"

Liz took a breath.

"I have the chills, high fever, a sore throat, I'm coughing, and I have many itching marks on my arms and legs."

"Have you recently been exposed to the chickenpox virus?"

"Yes, I'm a school bus driver and some of the children had it."

"What is your name, age and address please?"

"My name is Elizabeth Keen and I'm 35. The address is 8123, 12th street", she answered, giving the requested information.

"Hold on please, Miss Keen."

Liz held on for several moments. She was placed into the waiting line and listened to some random music.

"Miss Keen? Are you still there?"

"Yes, I'm here."

"Due to the weather none of our doctors can reach you at this time."

"I was afraid you would say that," Liz stated miserably.

"Not to worry, Miss Keen. As luck will have it, one of our physicians happens to be in your neighborhood on a house call right now. I will contact Dr. Reddington and send him to your home to have a look at you. He should still be able to get to you."

"That would be great."

Liz was immensely relieved that help was on the way.

"Thank you so much."

"Please have your credit card and health insurance available. Dr. Reddington will write down the information."

"Ok."

"I hope you get better soon, Miss Keen."

"Thank you."

Liz hung up and carefully settled back on the sofa.

The black Mercedes sedan dozed through the drabness of winter, ploughed through the snow and slush on the arctic roads. The snow storm hit full force by now and it was almost impossible to drive.

Vision was severely diminished by the swirling whiteness, and the howling of the wind suppressed everything else.

Dr. Raymond Reddington sighed. He was an experienced driver and his noble car spoiled him with a certain amount of security, but he knew he'd never make it home, that much was clear.

With any luck he'd make it to his next patient, located only two blocks away: A woman with chickenpox. While common among children, the disease was more serious in adults. He sincerely hoped she wasn't pregnant.

He took a final left turn, lost in thought, when a gust of wind blew his car practically across the street. He turned the wheel, driving into the skid, but the vehicle kept skidding sideways, then came to a grinding halt, half buried in a snowdrift.

Raymond sat unmoving for a moment to gather his bearings, then he rubbed his right knee, which had been jammed against the console at impact. It hurt but he assumed it was just bruised.

The Mercedes however had no such luck. The right headlight was smashed, and the front fender was dented. He wondered if his insurance would take care of it.

He put the vehicle in reverse, then listened to the tires spin; he couldn't get free.

Resigned, he switched off the ignition and clumsily climbed out of the car on the passenger seat as his door was stuck in the snow as well.

Opening the backseat door, he retrieved his black doctor's bag, then locked the car and slowly made his way through the snow to Miss Keen's house.

When the doorbell rang, it took her a while to answer. She managed to open the door, then felt her world spin as her knees buckled. She closed her eyes and nearly collapsed in a heap.

Dr. Reddington rushed forward and caught her, his strong arms wrapping around her before she hit the ground.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

"I've got you." Dr. Reddington said reassuringly as he carried Liz over to the comfortable sofa and laid her down, tucking a throw pillow under her head for support, then pulled the blanket over her as well.

He quickly shed his snow-covered coat, shoes, gloves and scarf and carried it all back into the corridor so that his clothes wouldn't wet the floor even more than they already had.

He also picked up his doctor's bag which he had carelessly dropped in front of the door when he'd caught her.

He closed the door and went back into the living room to kneel beside her.

Liz lay on the sofa still and motionless, her eyes shut. She looked sick, her face pale and damp.

Raymond was staring at the rich auburn curls streaming around her flushed face.

"Miss Keen, can you hear me?"

Getting no response, he touched her cheek, then laid the back of his hand on her forehead. Good lord, she was literally burning with fever.

He gently smoothed her hair, trying to rouse her from her boneless sprawl.

"Hello, Miss Keen?"

A long, shaky shiver raced through her and her lashes fluttered as she whimpered, kitten soft.

Raymond was hit by a protective instinct so strong it overwhelmed common sense.

He stilled when her eyes opened. Astonishing blue eyes, hazed with fever and confusion, desperately trying to focus.

"Don't be afraid. I'm Dr. Raymond Reddington and I'm here to help you."

The sound of his voice brought her gaze directly to his and he watched, strangely fascinated as a small smile shaped her mouth.

"That's good," she murmured. "I don't feel well."

Raymond caught his breath. The look she gave him turned him inside out as he experienced a stunning sense of familiarity, of knowing this woman in a way that bypassed the conscious mind.

Then she looked away and it was gone, leaving him baffled by what he'd felt. Irritable he shook off the moment, assigning it to imagination, though his arms were goose flushed.

Get a grip, doctor. He scolded himself. She's your patient and you better start treating her instead of looking at her like a stupid fool.

Liz sighed heavily, closed her eyes again and snuggled into her pillow for comfort.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," she murmured. "I feel so dizzy."

"It's the fever," he told her, rose and entered the adjoining kitchen. He opened a few cabinets, pulled out a glass and filled it with water, then brought it to her.

"You must drink as much as you can," he said. "You're severely dehydrated."

He slipped an arm behind her and held her up a little to help her drink. Her throat was bothering her; he could tell by the way she grimaced when she swallowed.

"You probably shouldn't have touched me, doctor. I'm highly contagious."

"Don't worry. I had the chicken pox when I was 5 years old," he chuckled at the memory. "Drove my mother nuts because I used my illness as an excuse to live on cookies and chocolate ice cream for an entire week."

Raymond cocked his head to the side, a smirk playing at his lips. Liz returned his smile with another strikingly beautiful smile of her own despite her misery.

He gave her a tender look.

"Does that sound like a plan to you?"

"Oh no, not really, I love real food far too much." She sighed languidly. "But right now, I have no appetite whatsoever."

"When did you start feeling ill?"

"It started two days ago with a sore throat and a headache. I've had a fever since this morning; thought it was the flu."

Raymond bent and unsnapped the clasps on his doctor's bag and opened it while he listened to her.

"When I saw the spots, I knew what was wrong."

She took another sip and continued.

"I'm a school bus driver. There were cases of chicken pox among the children for the past weeks."

He nodded and inserted a thermometer into her mouth to take her temperature.

Gently, he reached for her right hand to check her pulse when the deep scar on her wrist, clearly from a burn, startled him.

He looked at her questioningly and watched as sadness filled her eyes. She quickly blinked it away and gave him a polite smile.

Looking back down, the scarlet mark taunted him. It looked angry, painful. He reached out without thinking, smoothing the tip of his fingers over the spot.

"Does it hurt?"

He felt her breath catch, and from the corner of his eye he could see her head shake.

He traced his finger around the bumpy skin and over it. The flesh beneath was noticeably hotter than the surrounding ivory skin.

Suddenly he wished his touch could make it all better, erase it altogether, the painful memories on how she got it included.

There were a million questions swirling through his mind, but he knew they'd have to wait. First, he had to help her.

He swallowed slowly, carefully, remembering once again his real duty.

He shifted his fingers, sliding them directly over her pulse point as he started to count, giving her a tentative compassionate smile in return.

Long seconds ticked by until he released her wrist and pulled the thermometer from between her lips.

"Your pulse is fine, but you're running a fever of a hundred and four."

His forehead creased with concern.

"Oh no …" she exclaimed weakly.

He took out his stethoscope and hung it around his neck.

"You're not pregnant, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not."

"Good. Let's take a look at your throat then. Please stick out your tongue and say, aaah."

Liz did as asked, and with a small penlight he looked into her throat, pushing down her tongue with a depressor.

"Your throat is definitely inflamed. It appears to be strep throat."

He felt her neck and behind her ears.

"Your glands are swollen."

He soothingly patted her arms when she coughed.

"I can't test a throat swab to be sure, but treating for strep would be my choice, even if I had lab facilities. I have several kinds of antibiotics in my bag. I'll give you a shot with a loading dose and then you can take the pills for a few days."

He gave her a serious look.

"Are you allergic to any medicines, Miss Keen?"

Liz muttered "no, not that I know of" was barely audible.

He reached for the stethoscope around his neck.

"I'd like to listen to you, could you please sit up for me?"

Raymond fumbled the buds into his ears, concentrating as he tried to warm the round end against his palm.

"I'm wearing no bra."

"You have nothing I haven't seen before," he said, smiling with encouragement.

"Right," she whispered, pushing aside her shyness.

Respecting her modesty, he slid her shirt up her back just a little so he could move the stethoscope and listen at specific points to her breath sounds.

The lungs were clear, but her bronchial tubes were congested, which meant that a chest infection was brewing.

He also asserted that the extent of the spots covering her upper body were more than usual and if it continued to spread this rapidly she would be coated everywhere soon.

He finished the examination, put the stethoscope away, then pulled her shirt back down, and easing her down slowly.

He looked at her seriously with concern in his eyes.

"You're quite covered with spots already. Unfortunately, I'm afraid it'll get a lot worse."

"I know I can't scratch, but I want to so badly."

"I'll prescribe an antihistamine, it'll help with the itching. Also, I suggest you take Tylenol for the fever and calamine lotion for the spots. Do you have any of these two in your medicine chest?"

"Tylenol, yes."

"Good, I'll get the other medicine for you then. On my way here, I saw a pharmacy located within the small strip mall one block away."

She looked into his eyes.

"You can't go back out there. All the snow… it's too dangerous."

"It's a short walk; only take a few minutes."

"But …"

"No but, Miss Keen. You need the medicine and you can't go yourself, so I'll do it for you."

His words didn't tolerate any objections; he knew nothing could change his mind. All he knew was that he had this unusual urge to help her and he would.

"I'll prepare the antibiotic shot now, then give you Tylenol before I leave. Just try to rest, will you?"

She nodded. "Thank you," she said softly, "for being here for me."

There it was again.

He swallowed hard against the shiver that run the length of his spine. He had no idea why her vulnerability affected him so much, what it was about her that got under his skin. He suddenly felt a deep urge to protect her.

"Don't thank me. It's my duty to help all my patients."

He knew with her it went beyond duty, but he couldn't admit that.

She watched him remove the cap from the syringe, break off the tip of the glass ampule and slide the needle inside to draw the antibiotic into the syringe.

He swabbed the skin of Liz's right arm with alcohol, then the needle pierced her skin and she closed her eyes briefly, suppressing a moan, as he emptied the syringe and withdrew the needle.

He covered the small puncture wound with a band-aid.

"The Tylenol is in the bathroom upstairs," she told him. "In the medicine cabinet."

"I'll get it."

He put his equipment back into his doctor's bag and closed it, then got up and left the living room.

He came back quickly, dropping two pills into her hand.

"Take these, then try to rest. I'll be back soon."

"Take my keys from the commode in the corridor and let yourself in when you come back."

"Okay."

"Please be careful, doctor," she called after him when he proceeded to step into his shoes and coat before left the house.

Raymond trudged through the knee-high snow. It was still snowing quite heavily, and the storm howled and moaned ferociously, whirling the snow that was already down back up, cutting visibility almost to zero.

The wind-driven snow seemed to beat against him from all directions and stung his eyes. He sunk deep into his coat and walk on with dogged determination.

The pharmacy was the closest store in the mall and he sighed with relief as its lighted windows assured him that it had not closed due to the storm.

He gave the pharmacist the prescription and requested calamine lotion. After a few moments the pharmacist came back, handing him a small bag with the requested medicine and Raymond paid for his purchase.

The supermarket he passed on his way out was empty and about to close, so he slipped in quickly, took a cart and hurried around.

He took cookies, waffles, ice cream, bread, pasta, several cans of soup, milk, eggs, bananas, a box of herbal tea bags and instant oatmeal. Food they both could survive on for a few days if necessary.

He paid at the check-out and filled the groceries into another bag.

The music blaring through the supermarket was suddenly interrupted by weather news and weather warnings. By now the entire city was shut down, people were advised to not leave their homes.

Gripping the bags tightly, he left the mall.

The way back to Miss Keen's house was exhausting. He felt the cold seeping into his bones, he shivered in his wet clothes, his teeth chattering.

He saw that his car was almost completely buried in snow. The city trucks had long quit plowing and the streets and sidewalks were abandoned to the storm. He was the only one brave out here … or stupid one, depending on how you looked at it.

Then he remembered his duffel bag with his sports clothes for the gym in the trunk of his Mercedes. The prospect of a dry t-shirt, sweatpants, fresh underwear and socks were peculiarly encouraging and in a final exertion, he dug the trunk compartment free and retrieved his bag.

He found her curled up on the couch in the same abject misery as he left her, although he didn't look much better than her in his current state.

"Are you alright?" she slurred, her eyes fluttered open. "It sounds like the world is coming to an end outside."

He kneeled down beside her. "I'm fine."

She tentatively touched her hand to his face, her fingers warming his cheek.

"You look frozen," Liz observed. "And like a wet dog."

Her eyes lit up in shy amusement.

"I just walked through a blizzard!" He laughed with her, but then grew serious.

"All public life stands still. Everything has shut down. Roads are closed. Public transportation suspended their service."

All playfulness was gone from his voice, and when she glanced at his face his eyes were dark, intense, a muscle working in his jaw.

Slowly, she slid her fingers from his face, and he suddenly missed the warm touch of her hand on his cold skin.

"The storm may rage for a long time."

"Does that mean you can't leave?"

Their eyes locked, longer than was appropriate, before he answered.

"I'm afraid you're stuck with me - through this storm."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

"You're stuck with me too, doctor, and it's probably worse for you than it is for me."

A small apologetic smile touched her lips.

"Because you have to put up with sick me."

She paused to wipe her fever-flushed face with the back of her hand, her fingers brushing over the itching spots.

"Though if we don't get you warm and dry soon, you'll lay sick right beside me."

He gently grabbed her wrist, tugging her hand away from her skin.

"Don't scratch."

"I wasn't."

"You were."

He released her, then opened the pharmacy bag.

"Go upstairs for a hot shower," she suggested.

"We need to take care of your spots first," he said with a dismissive shake of his head.

"I'll be fine 10 minutes longer. Go shower."

Hiding a smile, Raymond exhaled, unaware he'd been holding his breath. Somehow her stubbornness appealed to him.

"Please? There's fresh towels in the bathroom cabinet."

"Ok, you win."

"That easily?" She leaned back on the pillow, closed her eyes and smiled again.

"For now," he teased. "I'll be right back."

Raymond took his duffel bag and went upstairs to the master bathroom.

He quickly stripped off his wet clothes, shed his white polo shirt, black jeans, underwear and socks.

Pulling open the pebbled glass door, he stepped into the shower and turned it on.

A moan of pure pleasure escaped his lips as the hot water began to warm his cold body. No shower had ever felt this good. If it wasn't for the fact that his sick host was waiting for him, he'd spend the next hour letting the warm water pound away every ache. As a guest however, an unexpected one at that, it would be rude to linger.

He took a little of her vanilla shampoo, quickly lathered his short hair and upper body, then leaned back into the pulsating spray, letting the water wash away the suds from his head, neck and shoulders.

He turned the water off, stepped out of the cubicle and grabbed a towel from the cabinet to dry off.

When he was finished and shrugged into dry clothes, he gathered his wet apparel and placed them on the counter. He would ask Miss Keen if he could launder them later.

When he returned to the living room, he found her sleeping. Deciding not to disturb her rest, he quietly stepped into the kitchen to put away the groceries.

While he heated water for tea he had a closer look around, getting an overview of furnishings and appliances.

Everything on the first floor was open. The kitchen, the dining area, the living space, all blended together into one huge comfortable room.

A thick light brown carpet covered the floor up to the kitchen. The kitchen was equipped with brand-new stainless-steel appliances and fitted out with cream colored kitchen cabinets and shiny cream floor tiles.

The dining area opposite the kitchen was small, having room for only a wooden table and four chairs.

The grey plush sofa and matching loveseat formed a nook around a wooden coffee table in the living area.

All the furniture faced an entertainment center that had been built into the wall and surrounded a large TV set. A dark wooden bookcase with a locking glass front lined another wall.

The room was lightly decorated with plants, paintings and a couple of cream-colored standing lamps. For the most part it was simple and yet warm and inviting.

A staircase went up to the second floor where the bedroom and bathroom were located. Another one led down to the basement.

There was a door in the kitchen leading outside to a small backyard garden, but except for a few bushes and an apple tree he couldn't make out any more details. Everything was covered in thick snow.

To his surprise, there were no photographs of a partner, friends or family on the walls of either room much less any other personal items. She'd probably moved in here only recently, he thought.

He took two mugs, placed a tea bag in each, then filled them with the boiling water.

Carefully he carried both cups to the coffee table, sat down on the loveseat and gazed at her sleeping form. She still looked so pale and unwell. What concerned him most were her spells of chills and fever, when she lay there quivering, even in her sleep, cold one minute, hot the next.

He pulled the blanket more closely around her, trying to stop his heart from aching for her suffering.

The snow storm still rampaged outside, and he pensively drank his tea as he gazed outside to watch the snowflakes perform a wild dance in front of the window.

Liz woke to the sensation of having one million ants crawling on her body. She reached for her cheeks, ready to claw off the offending intruders, and found to her surprise that her hands had been covered with soft pink socks.

"What the hell?!"

Somebody leaned over into Liz's field of vision, and she found herself staring into the worried face of Dr. Reddington.

"Please, don't scratch, Miss Keen. You have beautiful skin and I don't want you getting any scars."

The ants continued their march over her face, down her throat, spread across her stomach and down to her abdomen and legs.

"You've been scraping at yourself in your sleep. I couldn't find any gloves to cover your hands and I didn't want to cut your fingernails without your permission. So the socks were the only way to prevent you from permanently damaging your skin."

He grinned sheepishly at her.

"But this itching is about to kill me," she groaned desperately, not appreciating his resourceful idea.

"I know."

Raymond pressed a pill to her lips.

"Take this antihistamine. It'll help."

Liz struggled into a sitting position, her head threatening to explode. He poured her a fresh glass of water and helped her drink and swallow the pill.

"I'll apply Calamine lotion on your spots in a minute, but before I do, we have to discuss your sleeping arrangement."

Feeling like a wilting flower, she sank back on the pillow.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want your sickbed to be upstairs in your bedroom or here on the couch?"

"I'm fine where I am, doctor."

"Are you sure it's comfortable enough? Otherwise I could just carry you over my shoulder upstairs; that's no problem."

He attempted humor to lighten her mood; he knew she was miserable. To his utter delight she laughed.

"Is that how you treat your patients?"

"Of course," he winked at her.

"Mmm, tempting," she still smiled, but grew serious again.

"The couch will do, really."

"Okay," he nodded. "But then tell me where to find linen to cover it. Things will get messy once the spots turn into fluid-filled blisters and pop open, not to mention the Calamine lotion will be everywhere as well."

"You'll find bedclothes upstairs in the dresser in my bedroom. Just take what you need."

"Will I find your sleepwear in there too? You'll need to change often..."

"Yes, it's all there."

"Ok, good."

After a few minutes, he brought down her entire bedding and a few light clothes.

Liz attempted to rise, but the room spun out of control and went dark. She gulped hard from the effort of trying to stand much less trying to walk somewhere unassisted.

Raymond took her hands and helped her up from the sofa. The moment she stood, she went weak again, tottering slightly.

She swallowed back tears at the strain. "I feel so stupid. So frail. I'm sorry."

His arms instantly went around her back, supporting her.

"I've got you, don't worry."

He slowly lowered her into a sitting position on the loveseat. She gritted her teeth against another wave of nausea.

"You're just sick. I'll hurry so you can lay back down, ok?"

She nodded but felt embarrassed.

He quickly prepared the couch, then had her all tucked up on the freshly made up sofa a few moments later.

"I'd like to apply the calamine lotion now," he declared and put on a pair of latex gloves from his doctor's bag.

He opened the bottle after shaking it and saturated a cotton ball with the pink liquid, his eyes studying her face as he decided where to begin.

The cool lotion felt heavenly as he patiently dabbed each spot or wiping it across the affected area, then moved on to the next. He started at her feet, thoroughly working his way up her torso.

Gently, he held her chin in his hand, moving the cotton ball over the contours of her face, along her cheekbones and her forehead. The blue of her eyes was painfully deep, and the kindness and welcoming warmth of her smile made his mouth dry.

He wondered how a girl who looked as if squirrels had nested in her hair could be so appealing to him, blotchy red dots and all.

He hesitated when he'd finished all the spots that were in plain sight. He knew some of the worst regions were right under her shirt.

Noticing his reluctance, her hand reached for her shirt and pulled up the material, exposing herself to him. A tiny bit of trepidation kicked in, but the pleasure and the relief of the cool calamine overcame her need for modesty. She just wanted him to soothe the infernal itching as she was too weak to do it herself.

She was beautifully formed with small, pert breasts and soft smooth skin and he couldn't help noticing how her nipples hardened right up when his somewhat unsteady hands lovingly administered the lotion to her chest and breasts.

Despite his best efforts his body was reacting to her proximity in a way that he couldn't control. The poor little thing trusted him, and he felt like a real cad when he failed to tap down the tumescent in his sweatpants.

She was his patient, and he would treat her as such, yet it was becoming increasingly difficult to rein in his emotions.

"Did I miss any?" He asked, in what he considered his best, unconcerned voice.

"I don't think so," she breathed. "It feels so good, thank you."

"Okay, then let me apply the lotion to your backside."

Gently, he rolled her onto her side and started to dab at the spots on the rear side of her legs until his fingers reached the fabric of her panties.

"May I?" he asked, his voice so unfamiliar deep and hoarse, as if something else used his throat.

She nodded, and he laid bare her cute butt, taking care of the rash covering both her cheeks.

Finally, he finished up her back, then drew her light clothes back in place, rolled her back around and draped the blanket over her.

"Thank you," she said again, as he looked down at her, their eyes locking for many seconds.

The shrill ring of his cell phone interrupted the moment, and nearly made them both jump out of their skin.

One ring. Two rings. Three rings.

"Excuse me," he murmured and went to answer it.

"Maddie." Liz heard him say.

"I'm stuck with a patient. I couldn't make it out in time."

She watched him wander into her kitchen where he started to pace at the obvious tirade that rained down on him over the phone.

"This is my job, Maddie, you know that."

He became angry and threw his hands in the air in frustration.

"Yes, I pictured our weekend a lot different too," he hissed back in a sourly tone.

"Tzz, don't be so ridiculous, as if the storm is all my fault."

He shook his head and kept pacing her kitchen.

"I don't know when I'll be home; the entire city has been shut down."

Before he could say anything else the caller apparently had hung up. Unbelieving, Raymond looked at his phone for long seconds, then closed his eyes, struggling to keep his seething rage at bay.

So, the good doctor had a wife who seemed to be quite unhappy about the turn of today's events, Liz mused, and she wondered if she should feel guilty about calling for help in the first place.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

When Raymond returned to her side, he sat on the loveseat. Liz could see he remianed upset about the phone call, and he attempted to pull himself together.

There was an awkward pause after he'd dropped his phone facedown onto the coffee table.

"What was that about?" she asked in a small voice, unsure if she should address the issue at all. "Are you ok?"

He eyed her for a moment, silent and pensive.

"I'm sorry for this…" he pointed to his phone. "Just my partner's usual objections regarding my work."

"Partner?"

What an odd term to describe the person you're with, Liz thought. The way he said it felt cold and detached.

"Well, my girlfriend …"

He gesticulated helplessly with his hand.

"Significant other? We're together for more than 10 years now, but not married," he explained at her confused expression.

Before he could say anything more his phone rang again. Instantly they both knew who it was.

Raymond frowned, grabbed the phone and abruptly stood, taking the call.

Liz heard a strident female voice over the phone but could not distinguish the words.

He tried to remain calm until a nerve twitched under his left eye at her words and the muscle in his jaw worked furiously, betraying his bravado.

"You were the one who hung up on me," he reminded her, then sighed in defeat.

"I know the situation is unfortunate, but there is nothing I can do about it. I'm stuck here for an undefined amount of time. I'm sorry."

His apology didn't seem to appease her. Liz watched how the voice fussed at him for a few more minutes, but his casual manner made her angrier and her behavior deteriorated even more than it already had.

"For God's sake, Madeline," he finally hissed in a low voice. "You're completely unreasonable and over-reacting. I'll talk to you when you've calmed down and aren't so irrational anymore. Until then, goodbye."

He hung up and muted the phone to stop the harassment, swallowing back the knot of frustration.

The situation was awful and extremely embarrassing, but a sideward glance at Liz offered him a compassionate smile.

"I'm sorry." He softly repeated his earlier words.

"Don't be. She was making quite a scene. If anyone feels sorry it's me. I shouldn't have called for help, not in this weather anyway."

"You're sick. You need help. Madeline is completely out of line."

Before she could say anything more, he turned away, thereby ending the conversation on that topic and walked off into the kitchen.

"Would you like some soup? I brought some chicken noodle soup from the store."

"That's kind of you, but no, thanks. I'm not hungry."

"Well, at least drink some more, will you?"

Liz felt biting heat swirling around her, growing. Faster and faster the flames grew, multiplying, each new flame burning brighter and hotter.

The roaring fire greedily consumed everything, trying to claim her too – a prize that had been denied years ago. Like a shadow demon, the smoke tried to choke her as she desperately searched for a way out.

The flames burned higher and wider still until she was surrounded by the inferno.

"No… please…" she cried out.

The flames lunged at her, withdrew, then lunged again. Heat seared her hand. She looked down and watched in horror as her skin dissolved into a mass of bloated blisters, then melted.

The unmistakable stench of burning flesh filled her nostrils as she fought back the urge to vomit.

Gasping for breath, she jolted upright, her eyes snapped open. She trembled, reeling from the flames that haunted her.

"Shh, it's over..."

She blinked.

Above her Dr. Reddington's face came into focus, his gentle hands guiding her to lay back down.

A cool rag touched her forehead and the fire retreated, then disappeared.

"You had a nightmare, and judging by your screams of terror, it was a bad one."

Raymond dunked the cloth into a bowl of water, wrung it out and again, tenderly dabbed her face.

"It's the fever that gives you nightmares."

He held a cup up to her lips. "I need you to drink."

Herb tea slid down her throat and she began to feel the soothing effects immediately.

"I was in a fire. I lost everything."

Raymond instantly knew she wasn't talking about her nightmare.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Raymond asked, tender concern etching his voice.

She shook her head weakly, absentmindedly rubbing the scar on her wrist in distress. "It's the last thing I want to talk about."

"Okay."

He hated the haunted look in her eyes, the obvious years of sadness leaving its mark. He desperately wished she would open up to him, tell him what happened, but he knew she was in no condition to do so. She needed to rest, trouble free if possible.

He was quiet for a minute, made her drink more tea before he spoke again:

"Just know you're safe, safe with me. I won't let anything happen to you."

Liz drifted in and out of sleep, probably through the worst night of her life, her fever flaring up again and again, hovering in the vicinity of 104.

He watched her closely, tried to lower the fever with the cool washcloth, bathing her arms, legs and feet. He refrained from giving her stronger medicine, not wanting to suppress her body's own mechanism to fight the viral infection.

He made sure to keep her hydrated, with water and more herb tea. He even persuaded her to sip a few spoons of the soup she refused earlier, but otherwise she stayed anorexic.

They were both exhausted in the morning after a sleepless night. He had to help her to her feet and guide her into the small guest bathroom at her request to freshen up.

She pulled down her panties and he seated her on the toilet so that she could do her business. Then he walked out, leaving the door open enough to give her privacy.

"Call me when you're done, I'll help you get back."

"Thank you," she murmured softly.

She winced from a sudden burning sensation. Spreading her legs apart, her fingers carefully examined what she already suspected: the spots had spread to her most private area.

She resisted the urge to cry. If kids survived chicken pox, so could she.

She took several sheets of toilet tissue to clean herself, then rose, pulled her panties back up and dragged herself to the sink.

Washing her hands in the white basin, she raised her eyes to the mirror above and almost fainted when she viewed her reflection.

She looked even worse than she felt. Red spots covered her face and neck, a particularly big and nasty one had infested her upper lip and itched like the devil. A pair of dark-ringed eyes gazed back at her and the ghostly pale skin of her face reminded her of death itself.

Her hair was a mess and she just knew she smelled like hell too, but she didn't have the strength to freshen up.

The hair brush felt heavy in her hands and her arms hurt from the strain, even raising the tooth brush took too much of an effort. She had to face it. She was too sick and too weak to care for herself.

Leaning back heavily against the vanity top, she held her aching head in her hands and started to cry as if her heart had just shattered into broken pieces. This was all just too much.

Raymond had just finished changing the linen on her sofa when he heard her hushed sobbing.

He ran over to the bathroom door and listened. He didn't want to disturb her, but on the other hand he needed to reassure himself that she was ok.

He knocked gently. She didn't answer, just kept crying as if someone or something had physically harmed her.

"Miss Keen? Are you okay? Can I come in?"

His kind voice received no answer and when he opened the door, he was disturbed by how she was visibly shaking.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

Tenderly and with extreme care, he put his arm around her small shoulder, trying to comfort her.

"I'm a monster!" she choked in an attempt to speak.

More tears ran down her distorted face.

"I look and feel like a monster. There isn't a single part of my body left that isn't covered by these germs. They're even …"

She couldn't continue. The tears she had tried to hold back in order to speak gushed forth at the memory of her discovery.

He pulled her into his arms while her cries turned into heart-breaking sobs, prompting him to cradle her against his chest.

"What's wrong with me?"

He patted her back and made soothing noises.

"There's nothing wrong with you. You're very sick, sweetheart, not a monster. The spots and the itching will go away in time, I promise."

Sweetheart? Where did that come from? He hoped in her distress she hadn't noticed.

When she finally stopped weeping, he leaned back slightly and smoothed her hair away from her tear-streaked face.

"Feel a little better now?"

He knew he had crossed all sorts of lines with her again, didn't maintain his professional distance as he should.

She nodded but felt embarrassed by her outburst.

"I'm sorry about that. I usually don't fall apart like this."

"It's absolutely fine. I can only imagine how miserable you must feel."

He handed her a tissue from a nearby box which she thankfully took.

"My nose is all red," she muttered and glanced at the mirror again, then blew into the tissue. "I look like Rudolph."

He chuckled and grinned, tugging on his ear.

"Yes, that seems a bit more accurate."

Liz smiled back at him. Suddenly she was immensely glad he was with her. She wasn't sure how she would have handled the situation if she'd been alone.

"Come on, let's get you back onto the couch."

"Wait!" She grabbed his arm.

"I need you to…"

She stopped, searching for words.

"I need you to have a look…"

She closed her eyes in despair, breathing a shuddering sigh.

" … between my legs."

Tears pooled in her beautiful blue eyes again when she opened them.

"Okay," he nodded. "But not here, let's go back."

Back on the sofa, she bared herself to him while he put on another pair of medical gloves and knelt at her side.

Hesitantly, she opened her legs while shame and humiliation ripped through her already fragile being and made her look away.

His hand slowly approached her, two fingers carefully spreading open her labia so he could see.

He gasped at the horrendous amounts of chicken pox inside her vagina and all around on the outside.

"Is it infected?"

"No, it's not, but …"

When he didn't continue, she couldn't help but to start crying all over again and the sight of the tears running down her cheeks made his stomach drop.

How much more could she endure?

He covered her with the blanket and took off the gloves.

Helplessly he took her hand and held it, his thumb soothingly drawing circles on her skin. The gesture felt inadequate for the depth of her suffering and he wished there was something, anything he could do to free her of her discomfort.

And then he had an idea.

"How do you feel about an oatmeal bath?"

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

"You want me to bathe in sticky breakfast food?"

Liz looked distinctly skeptical, causing Dr. Reddington to laugh.

"One of the oldest treatments for chicken pox is an oatmeal bath. It's an effective remedy to soothe itchy, irritated skin."

"Well, the prospect of a bath sounds wonderful in any case."

"Good. I'll need a minute for preparation, then I'll help you upstairs to the bathroom."

With a smile he left her, headed to the guest bathroom and took a nylon stocking that was hanging in her shower. He then quickly disappeared into the kitchen.

When he returned, Liz had managed to drag herself to the stairs in the corridor and now held on to the banister for support.

"I'd better carry you the rest of the way."

"Oh, that's not necessary, I can manage the steps just fine."

"Maybe, but I can't just stand back and watch you struggle while you try."

Before she knew it, he put his arm around her, and suddenly she was swept up into his strong arms.

"Put me down. I'm too heavy."

"No, you're not. Now stop fidgeting."

She put her arms around his neck instinctively and rested her head against his shoulder.

Raymond's warm breath disturbed some tendrils of hair at her temples. Just then, a delicate shudder took her slender form.

Time seemed to slow down as she felt his muscles flex and move as he carried her slowly, carefully, up the stairs and through the bathroom door as if she was a precious flower.

With little effort, he gently placed her on the edge of the tub and ran her a bath.

He had filled the nylon stocking with the oatmeal he'd purchased in the supermarket the day before and knotted the open end. He hung the little bag under the hot-water tap, allowing the liquid to flow over it, unlocking the essence of the oatmeal, giving the water a milky appearance.

Still much too weak to do anything for herself, Liz allowed him to assist her while she undressed, then helped get her into the bath. She couldn't suppress a moan of pleasure when the warm liquid enveloped her aching bones. She sunk deeper into the tub, laid her head back and closed her eyes in contentment. This was exactly what she needed.

"I have to admit I had my doubts, but this feels wonderful."

"Good. It will help you feel better, I promise."

When the tub was completely full of warm water, he knelt down beside her and took the bag, gently running the stocking over her body, attentively dabbing at the irritated skin, giving it a silky feel.

He had seen her naked so many times by now, he'd memorized nearly every inch of her body. Each time his heart raced like crazy, but painfully aware of how much trouble he could get into, he desperately pushed back the desire. What this all meant was too difficult to contemplate right now. Thankfully she was still too sick and therefore fortunately oblivious to his reaction and inner tumult.

He let Liz soak in the tub a while longer while he assembled her used bed linen, her worn clothes and his wet work clothes, then started the washing machine.

Once the water had cooled, he helped her out of the tub and wrapped a towel around her and attentive of her spots, padded her dry.

"My hair feels so dirty," she murmured unhappily as she reached up and grabbed a strand, letting it fall limply against her shoulder.

"I wish I could have washed it."

"I can wash your hair in the sink if you like," he suggested.

"I don't know. You've done so much already. I can hardly ask you to do this, too."

"It's no problem. Anything you need, Miss Keen."

He stared at her intently as he waited for her answer.

"Please doctor, call me Elizabeth or Lizzy, if you prefer. That is what my friends usually call me. I mean, you've seen me naked and all, don't you think we should drop formality?"

"Okay, but only if you call me Raymond."

He watched fascinated as her blue eyes lit up in joy from his words.

"Alright, Raymond. I'd love if you could wash my hair."

He fetched a chair for her and placed it against the sink. Liz sat down and Raymond put a robe around her. Then, she craned her neck over the sink, closing her eyes as he turned on the water, adjusting the temperature.

He began to spray her hair with water, then squeezed the vanilla-scented shampoo into his palm and, oh so tenderly, he slowly soaped her hair from her scalp to the ends.

He had magic fingers, and she uttered a deep sigh and gave in to the bliss of relaxation that stole over her at his ministrations.

By the time he rinsed the suds away, she finally felt clean and a little better about herself all around, while he wrapped a towel around her wet hair and helped her into a sitting position away from the sink.

She watched as he plugged her blow-dryer into a nearby socket, then took a brush and unwound the towel from her head. Standing behind her, he began to brush out the tangles in her hair in a tender manner.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked softly, lifting the hairbrush away.

"No, you aren't hurting me," she answered, then closed her eyes once again as he turned on the dryer and pointed the warm stream of air at her head.

With the brush working through the strands of wet hair and the dryer warming her shoulders, she once again felt a delicious languor sweep over her, especially when he abandoned the brush and instead used his hands to rake through her strands, his fingers spearing her silky tresses.

The feel of her hair gliding along his hands was pure bliss, and this time he couldn't staunch the arousal unfurling deep within him.

He inhaled deeply through his nose, absorbing the scent of her vanilla shampoo, a sweet smell he'd always associate with her from now on.

Time and time again she felt his fingertips on her neck, around her ear, touching her cheek.

He continued to stroke her hair long after it was dry. The tenderness of his touch was a caress, so subtle and natural, she wondered if her fevered mind was playing tricks on her.

With her bath finished, and Liz all tucked in on the freshly made up couch in a clean pair of pajamas, they shared a lunch of an appetizing omelet, buttered toast and tea.

"This is really good", Liz said, chewing, her appetite returning. "I'm lucky you're so multitalented."

He chuckled at her compliment.

"It's true! I appreciate this more than you know, more than I can say", she assured him.

"I'll add all my services to the bill", he said with teasing amusement.

He caught her small frown as she glanced away.

"I'm glad to do this for you, Lizzy," he hurried to say, to ease away the hurt. He didn't mean to devalue her gratitude by his inappropriate comment.

They shared a smile, then fell into a companionable silence as they continued eating.

After she took her medicine, she felt exhausted, the need to sleep strong in her, but the spots, of course, resumed their merciless itching.

She slipped the pink socks over her hands again and tried her best to keep from scratching.

Tears gathered in her eyes in frustration, then streaked down her cheeks when he came back from cleaning up the kitchen to join her on the sofa.

"The itch is so bad again, it's driving me crazy," she sobbed in anguish. "All I want to do is sleep."

Her tears cut through him like tiny knives, feeling her pain as though it were his own as he studied her face. She looked so much more vulnerable and fed up than he'd ever seen her.

"Maybe I shouldn't offer you this...," he paused, feeling conflicted.

"What?" she sniffled.

"I can give you a light sedative that will relax you and make you feel sleepy and comfortable."

She didn't even have to think twice.

"Please do."

"Are you really sure? I'm drugging you."

"Yes, but it's for medical purpose."

She looked at him, her eyes were pleading.

"Please help me sleep, Raymond. Just for a few hours."

He opened his medical bag and prepared an injection. He still looked uncertain when he stuck the needle into her arm, slowly administering the sedative.

"This is okay," she mumbled to reassure him and reached for his hand. He took hers and held it gently, his thumb caressing the back of her hand until she closed her eyes and slept soundly.

Relieved that she was finally resting, he grew aware of his own exhaustion.

Outside, the snowstorm, showed no signs of dissipating any time soon. It seemed a lot worse than the weather forecast had predicted. He'd be with her a good while longer and somehow that prospect made him happy.

However, he needed to find out what he felt for this woman who appealed to him so much. He was conscious that his feelings and kindling desire were wrong, and he had struggled against them with all his strength, but there was no denying, he knew it was running deep already.

He couldn't explain why, it had happened so fast under these exceptional circumstances.

He knew he should feel guilty and ashamed, he was engaged in a serious relationship after all, but somehow, he didn't.

Remembering that he probably should keep in touch with Madeline nonetheless, he took his phone. It showed five missed calls and several text messages. One worse than the next. She still didn't see reason and had continued to rant and rave at him.

Sighing, Raymond looked at the sleeping woman, then back at his cell phone, staring at the insults and hurtful words on screen.

He was too tired to defend himself. She'd always complained about his work for as long as he could remember, despite living a comfortable and secure life with all the benefits from the money he earned.

Torn between the need to make things right between them and simply ignoring her, he was startled when suddenly the power went off and the room went pitch-black around him.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Elizabeth woke up feeling slightly better but all in all still weak and feverish. She decided she just might survive.

She slowly sat up and looked around. She couldn't tell how long she slept, what day or time it was anymore.

The room was unusually cold and dark. The only light came from three lit candles on the coffee table. All other lights were out even in the entertainment center, and she started to worry about a power outage due to the snowstorm.

Raymond lay curled up on the love seat with his knees drawn up to his chest. He sure didn't look like he was comfortable; he had 'borrowed' the very end of her blanket to cover his feet. He must be cold, she thought.

He was roused from slumber when she coughed. He was up and by her side in an instant.

"Hey, how are you feeling?"

"I'm okay. Sorry I woke you up, you must be tired too."

"I don't mind."

His green eyes locked on hers. From what she could see they were strangely calming.

"How long did I sleep?"

"All afternoon and evening."

"I'm sorry, I'm a terrible host," she said unhappily, yet he smiled in understanding.

"You needed the rest."

"How's the sore throat? And the itching?" He touched her forehead lightly. "You're still burning up with fever, aren't you?"

He handed her the next round of pills with a glass of water and she had to smile in return at his unwavering care.

"I'm fine. I guess the medicine is working."

A shiver ran through her body after she swallowed the medication. "It's a bit chilly here though."

He took the blanket and draped it around her shoulders.

"The power has been down for several hours now," he said, confirming her earlier assumption. "We have no lights, no heat. Cell phone service is not available either."

"Uh, that doesn't sound good."

"We should be fine. We have enough food to last a few more days. Heat will be a problem though, we'll have to keep warm somehow."

"There are more blankets and another pillow in the armoire in my bedroom."

He nodded in agreement, and stepped from the living room.

"Bring the comforter too," she called after him.

He returned a few minutes later, his arms gathering the bed linens, dropping them in a heap at the end of the sofa. He then spread them in layers over her body, lovingly tucking the bundle around her and under her cute chin.

He left one blanket and pillow for himself and placed them on the love seat.

"Oh no, I won't let you sleep on that tiny love seat for the rest of the night, Raymond. This couch can be pulled out into a full-size bed. We can both sleep here."

When he hesitated, an ugly fear started to coil low in her stomach. He probably didn't want to be in close proximity to her; he was certainly grossed out by her condition after all and was just too polite to admit it.

"Unless you don't want to?"

Her voice was laced with insecurity.

"Oh, I want to," he said quickly, seizing the suggestion.

His pause must have given her the wrong impression when in fact he couldn't believe his luck and relished in the thought that he could be close to her once more.

She crawled out from under the blankets and let him arrange the couch, then they laid down together, wrapped up and covered in blankets like mummies in a cave.

Despite his best efforts to stay awake, Raymond dozed off, no longer able to resist the temptation of his own body's need for rest.

Liz had to smile that he finally relaxed and followed him into dreamland.

#####

They woke up, surrounded by pitch-black darkness. The candles had long burned down and the temperature in the room had dropped considerably. The relentless howling wind and the battering snow continued.

"I can't seem to find more candles." He told her.

She shook her head. "That's because they're all gone."

She dragged in a deep breath, knowing he looked confused even though she couldn't see it.

"I don't like a fire," she slowly explained. "It scares me…But there's a flashlight in the cupboard in the corridor if you need some light." She quickly avoided the subject after her confession.

He grabbed his cell phone instead, and the blue light from the screen illuminated the room enough to let him look at her.

"Tell me what happened, Lizzie," he gently urged her, without letting her off the hook.

She swallowed at the way he said her name. There was a softness there, an intimacy that made her want to open up to him. Maybe it was the way he looked into her eyes with such intense interest, or maybe, because he was a doctor, she figured he'd also been privy to some nasty stuff throughout his career.

"I haven't told anyone this before." She began softly.

"I was once married. We lived in Nebraska. I have a degree in psychology and worked as a counsellor and trainer in various settings for different companies. My husband Tom was a fourth-grade school teacher," she paused and sighed.

"At least that's what he pretended to be. What I didn't know was that Tom had a secret life. He made himself available for criminal organizations, then carried out dangerous, often illegal missions like the drug trade, arms deals, robbery, even hit jobs.

"As successful as he was, he also had a great talent to get himself in trouble. He was greedy and he chose to exploit every opportunity to make profit for himself. When he was caught embezzling money from his last employer, a group of men broke into our house one night and they took Tom and tied him to a chair. They tortured him mercilessly, hit and stabbed him… there was so much blood everywhere."

Liz started to cry as the memories flashed before her.

"When they were done with him, they poured gasoline all over the place and set the house ablaze. The entire time I hid in a wardrobe unnoticed, but had a hard time escaping the fire. It was a miracle I survived, coming out relatively unharmed except the burn on my wrist."

She rubbed the scar with her thumb in distress, causing Raymond to place his hand over hers in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture.

"What a horrible experience; I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

"The fire burned the house completely down to the grounds and destroyed everything in it. My whole life as I had known it had been lost and literally burned to ashes.

"But what bothers me to this day, is not that I lost the man I loved or the life we had, but that I had been so blind to his deception for so many years."

She pursed her lips and shook her head.

"Me, the expert in reading and analyzing people was married to a ruthless criminal and I failed to notice."

"Love makes you blind."

"No, love doesn't make anyone blind." She laughed bitterly.

"Falsely created images make us blind. I desperately wanted Tom and me to have a family together, wanted him to make me happy, squeezed all my wishes and dreams into the frame of this image without really seeing the real person behind it. Once this fake image was created, I was sold, I was unable to see the truth and I always ignored my inner longing for something else until it was too late."

She fought back another wave of tears.

"He fooled me all these years and I'm not even sorry he had to pay the price."

Raymond nodded. "That's understandable."

"Anyway, I moved away and started a new life."

"Are you in witness protection?"

She looked up at him, regarding the man she came to trust and felt save with within the past two days, but the answer died in her mouth. She just couldn't say it and she didn't want to lie.

He sensed her discomfort and anxiety, saw her struggle for an answer.

"I'm sorry, I know you can't say anything if you are. I shouldn't have asked in the first place."

She breathed a sigh of relief and closed her eyes in an understanding manner.

Raymond turned off the phone's screen to give her some privacy after her revelation and they lay in silence for a long time.

"I'm so cold, Raymond."

He could feel her trembling beside him.

"Come here."

"No, you don't want me close to you, I'm hideous."

"There is nothing about you I find repellent."

"I've marinated the entire couch with my funk by now."

He gave out a low chuckle. "I don't care."

He scooted closer, found a way underneath the blankets to pull her against him and spooned her backside with his front, his arm draped around her middle.

"Better?"

"Yes, but I don't think _she_ would approve."

His hearty laugh tickled at her neck.

"Oh, she wouldn't approve to any of this."

"What's her problem? Why is she being so hard on you?"

"I wish I knew. It's complicated for quite some time now."

"Do want to talk about it?"

She turned around to face him, even though they were still surrounded by the blackness of the room.

"I guess it's only fair that I tell you more about me as well."

"Yes, please do."

"When I met Madeline, she was exceedingly self-confident. She pursued me actively and maybe a little shamelessly too. I felt flattered and we came together quickly.

"While in the beginning years she was proud to be with me and literally decorated herself with me at any given opportunity, she turned more and more selfish and self-centered in the latter.

"To this day she always makes sure she has the best of everything. She insists on having her own way all the time and she stops at nothing, always ruthlessly, even manipulatively pursues it.

"More recently, her specialty is pointing fingers and criticize or shame me for my likes and choices. My work included."

"I'm surprised you read her so well."

"I have from the start."

"But you can't be happy about the way she treats you."

"I'm not."

"So, given the extent of this conflict, what keeps you two together?"

He took a little too long to answer.

"Routine. Habit."

"That's no foundation for a relationship at all."

"Well, I do love her and after all the years we're together … I think that should mean something."

"Still, I sense you're feeling trapped."

"That's true. Trapped and helpless because whatever I do won't change the situation."

"You must allow yourself to look closely if it's worth living on like this because this is clearly emotional abuse."

"I'm aware of that."

They fell silent again, but after a while Liz muttered softly:

"Sorry, that was the psychologist in me talking. I didn't mean to intrude, it's not my business."

"It's okay. I think we've grown to know each other pretty well these past days and can trust the other with a secret or two. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, I think sharing with people we trust can be very beneficial. Thank you."

They had attempted to comfort and soothe the other; It was working for both of them.

"Maybe we should try to sleep some more," he suggested.

She nodded and closed her eyes as she rested her head against his chest.

Raymond was thrilled to hold her, to have her pressed next to him. He smothered his emotions and desires, being content that she trusted him enough to go to sleep in his arms.

Their mutual warmth kept the cold at bay through the rest of the night as they cuddled up in each other's arms as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

The next time Liz woke up it was Sunday morning.

Blinking her eyes a few times to clear away sleep, she glanced around.

The lights, that had been out after the power cut were on now, and that meant the electricity was back. It felt warm in the room too, thank god.

Relieved, she turned her head to look out the window and noticed that the storm had died down; the wind was no longer violent, and the big snowflakes had reduced to a mere drizzle.

Even though the itching still bothered her considerably, she felt slightly better. The feverish haze that had been clouding her mind and weakened her body had cleared and she felt stronger and more alert.

She had scooted away from Raymond in her sleep to her side of the couch. He lay on his stomach beside her, his face turned towards her.

When she realized she hadn't woken him yet, she propped herself up on one elbow and seized the opportunity to take a good look at her bedmate. She hadn't really looked at him properly before.

His eyes were closed, his face at rest. She witnessed the slow rise and fall of his back, the sweep of his unfairly long blond eyelashes against his soft skin.

Her gaze lingered at the shadowed stubble on his cheek and chin. It took all her strength to resist placing her fingertips on it to feel the sexy rasp.

She watched him sleep for a long time. His eyes beneath the close lids were moving, like he was dreaming. A pleasant dream she surmised, for his lips curved in a faint half smile and she found herself smiling back.

He was so at peace, so handsome, her stomach fluttered with restless sensations she'd almost forgotten.

What are you dreaming of, beautiful man? Do you dream of me?

Liz dismissed that thought immediately.

Just because he had taken care of her these past two days, so naturally concerned with her sickness, and had held her in his arms all night long to keep her warm, didn't mean she should interpret more than there really was. It was foolish and wrong.

He was her doctor, which meant that ethically there could be nothing personal between them. It was completely out of bounds and morally wrong and could get him in big trouble.

He was off-limits. Not to mention he was also completely out of her league. She was a bus driver. A simple woman with a simple life.

And besides all that he had a companion in life as well.

"Good morning." He suddenly said and opened his eyes.

His hand snuck out of the blankets to rest against her forehead, checking her temperature and chasing away the frown she knew was on her face about her rationalizations.

"You look better."

She wanted to pull away but his smile and his thumb that caressed her hairline kept her motionless.

"Yes, the fever seems to be down a little."

"That's good. And everything else?"

"My throat doesn't hurt as much anymore, and the cough only returns for weaker and shorter fits."

She sighed and moved away from his hand.

"However, the spots are turning into fluid-filled blister, like you said. You shouldn't touch me so much."

Her dismissal stung a little, but her expression made him think it might have been protectiveness rather than rejection.

"Good news is, the power is back on," she went on. "And the storm is decreasing. Looks like we made it through the worst of it."

"Then how do you feel about breakfast?" He asked. "I'm starving. Are you hungry?"

"Not really." Liz made a face.

Raymond felt like he couldn't win with her this morning. She was being moody, which was understandable in her condition.

He freed himself from the blankets around him and got up from the couch to retreat to the kitchen when her soft voice stopped him.

"I'd die for a cup of coffee."

He had to smile at that because the same thought had crossed his mind.

"Coffee yes, but no dying. Not with a doctor in the house."

She grinned at him and he was pleased when her face finally lit up amused.

"Anything else I can do for you?"

He took another chance to persuade her into anything with more nutritional value, but that wasn't what she needed.

"Would you mind running me another oatmeal bath?"

"Of course not."

He knew the itching must be awful and making her miserable.

"But coffee first."

He went into the kitchen to make the desired beverage.

"Do you take sugar or milk?"

"Both, and plenty of it, thank you."

Minutes later, she sat on the couch and sipped a cup of the fresh brew. She enjoyed the smell and closed her eyes and let the fragrant steam bathe her face.

He settled next to her on the couch and sipped from his own mug.

Liz secretly stole another look at his profile; her female body was suddenly acutely aware of him sitting so close by.

He was strong, handsome and smart. His quiet gentleness and kindnesses were outstanding. His thoughtful care, his constant tries to make her feel better and to cheer her up touched her heart's core no matter how hard she fought the feeling.

"So, what's the plan for today?" She asked into the silence.

"To make you well."

He looked at her for a long moment, unblinking and getting lost in her blue eyes until she was the one who looked away. The intensity of his expression was too much for her to handle. She focused on her coffee, cradling the cup with both hands and nodded her agreement.

######

During the course of the day, he helped her through the entire procedure again.

He made sure she'd take her medicine, made her drink and eat and drew her the desired oatmeal bath, then changed and washed the bed linen in the meantime.

He took her temperature and listened to her chest sounds, then covered her from head to toe in calamine lotion again.

By the time he'd finished she was so exhausted that she fell asleep easily.

He busied himself with reading or solving crossword puzzles while she slept. Every few minutes, he looked up and smiled, just from watching her slumber.

Here, trapped with Liz, he marveled at the simplicity of things which he had forgotten existed. His life was busy, often hectic. His spare free time was filled with social appearances and nights out, evenings spent at a restaurant, theatre or art gallery rather than staying at home.

He felt relaxed, peaceful and content these past few days which he had not felt in a very long time.

Later in the afternoon, after a fitful rest, it occurred to Liz that she had yet to inform her job about her condition, so she phoned her boss to explain that she'd grown ill, and would be on sick leave for at least two more weeks. Donald wished her well and a speedy recovery.

When she started shivering in the evening, Raymond knew her fever had returned.

She gladly excepted the hot soup for dinner and after he cleaned the kitchen, he joined her on the couch without hesitation.

He held her through the night again and she basked in the comfort he was giving.

######

Liz woke up on Monday morning and found him gone. She heard muffled sounds from outside like the scrape of a snow shovel, so she walked over to the window to look outside.

The snow had finally stopped falling, the municipal snowplow barreled down the street and she saw Raymond shoveling her driveway. He'd already dug out and cleared her car and it must have taken a lot of effort to deal with the masses of snow.

The sight of him tugged at her heartstrings as she watched him. He had rosy cheeks from the cold and the exertions, but he seemed determined to finish his task.

She wondered if she ever could make up for everything he did for her. This went beyond a doctor's care for a patient.

She sighed as she wished she'd be well enough to go outside and help him. Her mind flooded with vivid images of them frolicking around in the snow, having a snowball fight and building the largest snowman in the entire street.

He brought up all sorts of feelings and fantasies from deep inside her, which she thought she never wanted to experience again after Tom, but here she was.

She had no idea what this man was doing in her life, but she had a very strong feeling that, if she didn't take swift and preventative action, he was going to turn her life upside down, making it complicated and painful. She could not fall for him and she needed to protect her heart as much as she could.

She needed to stop thinking about his real motives. He was stuck with her, there was nothing else he could do and being the gentleman that he was he'd simply helped around the house wherever he could to keep himself occupied.

That's all that it was, Liz told herself.

When Raymond came back inside, he found Liz busy in the kitchen.

"Hey, what are you doing up?"

"Making you breakfast after all you're doing to help me."

"That's not necessary."

"It wasn't necessary to clear my driveway either." She gestured around the kitchen. "So, this is the least I can do."

Raymond saw the glow of fondness in Liz's eyes, and the smile he loved to see on her face. It was all the gratitude he needed.

He stepped behind her at the stove, placed his hand at her bathrobe covered waist, then peeked over her shoulder at the pan.

"I hope you like pancakes," she said. "I debated eggs and toast, but you seemed like the 'dessert for breakfast' kind of guy."

"I love pancakes, Lizzy."

"I think I went overboard with the batter, so I hope you're hungry."

"I am."

"Wonderful!"

She laughed as she removed the pancake from the pan and piled it on a waiting plate that already held half a dozen. She then spooned more batter and listened to the sizzle.

"I'm going upstairs to take a quick shower, ok? I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Okay."

A while later they sat back on the couch, drinking hot cocoa and munching away at the pancakes. Red was pleased that she finished one with syrup and another half with bananas.

"I'm glad your appetite is returning."

"I'm feeling better today."

"That's good, because I'll have to leave soon."

"I know," Liz said, looking gloomy.

######

After breakfast Red insisted that Liz rested some more while he made a few phone calls. He arranged for his car to be towed off to the next repair shop and he spoke with the car insurance.

He knew he should call Madeline too, but he put it off, knowing he was stalling for time just so he could stay with Liz a little longer.

He was secretly grateful that the snowplows outside needed the entire day to clear the streets from the snow enough that driving was possible again.

In the evening, however, he couldn't delay the phone call any longer.

"Hi Maddie, it's me," he said, walking out of the living room and into the corridor to have some privacy.

"Yes, I'm fine.

"I'm coming home first thing in the morning.

"I've missed you too, love.

"See you soon."

He hung up and cringed inwardly at his own words.

The truth was that he didn't feel that way at all. But he'd learned in all the years that they'd been together to reciprocate endearments and pleasantries to keep her happy and to avoid endless and lengthy discussions and inquiries about his feelings.

Liz faked sleep on the couch but she'd heard every word and was painfully reminded of the barriers that lay between them. She felt sad and lonely witnessing him giving his heart to another person and helpless that there was nothing she could do about it except letting him go.

######

It wasn't necessary anymore for them to rest together, but neither was willing to give up their sleeping arrangement on the sofa for the final night.

For as long as possible she tried to stay awake, trying to absorb his breathing, his smell, his touch, his feel and storing it away in her mind as a lasting memory. Sleep eventually claimed her, nonetheless.

Raymond glanced down at her lovely form leaning so heavily against him in her sleep.

What was he going to do with her? He steeled himself to accept the fact that he could never have her. Never know the sweetness of her kiss or discover the secrets of her body.

Circumstances forbade it.

And while she certainly enjoyed his closeness and they got along well, he had no inkling if she remotely felt the same or if she was simply grateful for his aid.

All he knew was that he'd miss her when they parted ways and he returned home tomorrow.

######

The nearer the moment came to leave the next morning the less they spoke, both longing for things to be different.

He'd ordered a cab and she watched him pack his few belongings.

He gave her further instructions on her medication for the next couple of days, then he closed his doctor's bag after he'd written down her insurance and credit card information.

When they saw the cab pulling up in front of the house their time together was over.

Wordlessly he drew her into his arms and hugged her close.

God, how warm and safe and snug she felt in his arms, as if she belonged there for all time.

How could that be?

And how could it be that holding Madeline never felt this way?

He squeezed her tight to him like he never wanted to let go.

"A simple thank you isn't nearly enough to express just how grateful I am for your help and support", she muffled against his chest and he could feel the vibration when she spoke.

"I will never forget what you have done for me. You are an amazing person, Raymond."

She pulled her head back, and as she did, she met his eyes: Those beautiful pools of iron grey and green leaves, now darkened in emotion.

Liz was stunned, mesmerized, unable to move a muscle as his eyes gazed into hers. His face was so close that for a second she thought he was going to kiss her.

But he didn't.

"Take care of yourself," he muttered instead.

"You too," she choked on the tears threatening to fall.

He released her from his embrace and opened the door. She shivered in the cold morning air after the warmth of his body.

Taking his bags, he turned his head to take one last look at her.

"Goodbye Elizabeth."

"Goodbye Raymond."

Then he was gone, purposefully walking along her driveway without looking back.

She closed the door and listened to the cab drive away.

Only then she allowed her tears to fall.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Curling up on the sofa, Liz took the pillow he'd slept on and hugged it close, crying softly to herself at the familiar heartbreaking smell of him.

All the feelings she'd been fighting washed over her. She'd fallen in love with Dr. Raymond Reddington and she could neither deny nor reject the pull she felt to him.

Somehow, he'd found a way into her heart in the short time they'd been together, no matter how many locks she put on it. But now he was gone, and his absence was like a gaping hole in her heart, painful and raw, and made her wept until she fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

When she woke up several hours later, she felt considerably worse again, weak and feverish and still so dejected.

The rest of the day seemed to drag on for her and she never felt more alone.

Memories and images of him followed her everywhere, trailing her like a shadow. He was constantly on her mind and she missed him with an intensity she'd not thought possible.

She missed talking to him. Missed their laughter. Missed how he took care of her without having any intention to get something back in return and especially she missed the way how he'd pulled her into his arms and spoon her tight against him during the night.

Without Raymond, her couch had become a cold and lonely place.

Liz closed her eyes and gave in to sadness and tears once more as she wished he'd at least be there to help her put lotion on the itching spots on her back she couldn't reach on her own.

After a terrible restless night, however, she decided not to dwell on her heartache and try to think positive.

She'd googled him in those sleepless hours and had found three-year-old photos of him and Madeline at a medical fund-raising event.

Madeline was a tall slim long-haired blonde and she'd worn an elegant golden strapless sequined dress. She'd looked absolutely stunning and gorgeous and Liz felt small and ugly compared to her, hideous and disgusting in her current state and only worth of pity.

Liz had hated her instantly.

Raymond had looked captivating handsome in his black tux with shiny lapels at each side and the black, shiny sash around his waist.

They'd almost looked like a celebrity couple, together hand and hand and laughing on all the pictures. Above all they'd looked happy and in love. A relationship Liz was sure Raymond wouldn't want to give up despite their recent problems. Right now, they were probably engaging in hot make-up sex all through the night to resolve their differences.

With a sigh of resignation, she'd clicked the photos away. She'd seen enough.

She knew she couldn't just switch off her feelings for him, but she was reasonable enough to know that Raymond was a man she could never have.

It was impossible.

He belonged to Madeline and there was just no place for Liz in his world. She understood that very clearly now.

So, in the early morning hours, she'd decided to move on and had even found a plausible explanation for her lack of restraint:

Her sickness not only had made her physically vulnerable but emotionally weak as well and therefore receptive for concern and affection that had made it easy to develop feelings.

Nevertheless, she realized, if this pathetic emotional mess she got herself in was good for one thing, then it was that she was finally ready for a new relationship.

After the disaster with Tom she never wanted to date again but now she knew she was no longer happy with her solitary life . She was ready to go out, meeting people and maybe even accept the next dinner invitation from her co-worker Aram. He'd tried several times in the past, but she'd always turned him down. Maybe it was time for a change.

Watching tv took her mind off for the rest of the day. Switching the online streaming service she subscribed to, she discovered a crime series in which a high-profile criminal voluntarily surrenders to the FBI after eluding capture for decades. He's willing to inform on other dangerous criminals and their operations under one condition: he insists on working exclusively with a rookie female FBI profiler.

Liz lazily lounged on the sofa, immersed herself in the show, a large box of ice cream and a supply of chunky chocolate cookies within reach.

"He's in love with you, you stupid fool," she told the brunette woman on screen even before the first episode had finished. "It sticks out a mile!"

Liz kept watching, curious how the story continued, and it was just what she needed to get her mind off from both her illness and Raymond for a while.

Later that same day, she'd just prepared some tea when the doorbell rang, startling her.

Who could that be at this time of the afternoon? She wondered.

Liz looked through the peephole and, to her astonishment, there was Raymond.

She quickly opened the door.

He stood there, in his winter coat, holding his doctor's bag in one hand, smiling at her and looking even better than she remembered.

If she thought she'd successfully fought down her feelings for him, thought she had them under control, she was mistaken. All good intentions to forget him and moving on with her life flew out the window at the mere sight of him.

She couldn't keep her heart from leaping in joy and happiness, was powerless to stomp down the affection she felt for him.

She hadn't stopped loving him, no matter how much she'd told herself it was hopeless and wrong.

"I came to check on you … to see if you're ok or if you need anything," he said and walked past her inside the house.

She shut the door behind him and barely gave him time to put down his bag and hang up his coat before she suddenly hugged him, as tightly as she could.

The sudden force caused him to stumble back, but slightly so, as his hands enveloped her immediately, pressing her closely against him in return.

They held on to one another for a long time. Neither said a word. In those few minutes, everything else seemed to dematerialize, there was only a raised thrum of heartbeats, both a little frazzled and both a little too fast.

It seemed so right being held by him, being close to him and for a second she conveniently forgot he wasn't hers. All she could think of was being back in his arms.

The familiarity of her small slender form against him instantly aroused tenderness and protectiveness. He didn't know how much he'd missed her until he saw her open the door.

"I'm glad you're here," she whispered in a very weak voice and a string of tiny butterflies tagged along in her heart, as she felt his arms squeeze even tighter at her words.

It brought a lump to her throat, and she suddenly felt overwhelmed. Her blue eyes filled with tears, she swallowed hard, then suddenly sobbed into his shirtfront.

Rocking her gently in his arms he let her cry. Eventually she managed to stop.

"I'm sorry," she gulped. "I'm such a wuss."

"Ssh," he replied softly. "You don't have to explain."

She turned her teary face up to his, her expression open and vulnerable.

"I've never been this ill before – and this is just a friggin child's disease."

"But it's worse in adults, Lizzy."

She leaned back into him and he could hear her shaky intake of breath, then the heavy exhale.

"You'll get better, believe me."

"But when?"

"Soon. Just try to be patient."

She nodded against his chest and closed her eyes, trying to absorb everything about him a moment longer. She knew she shamelessly used her illness to get close to him, but she didn't care. He smelled and felt so good she wanted to linger.

"Have you eaten today?"

She felt so thin and frail in his arms he worried about her.

"I feasted on the ice cream and cookies you bought."

His deep masculine laugh rumbled through his chest, sending warmth through her body.

"I had hoped that might happen."

"It was delicious," she giggled.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it."

Straightening, he loosened the embrace but kept his arm closely draped over Liz's shoulders, leading her into the living room.

"Come on, let me check on you."

On the couch, he examined her thoroughly, went with her through the procedure she knew so well by now, and he reassured her once more that she was going to be okay.

Most of her spots had formed a crust. More than ever it was important not to scratch.

"The scab covering the blister helps to keep out bacteria while the skin underneath starts to heal," he lectured her. "Picking off the scab can lead to infection or to scar."

Liz rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, you said that before."

"Then why are you not listening?"

He pointed to the small skin lesion on her forehead.

"I had a bad night, didn't sleep well, was restless and uneasy," she explained. "Because you weren't there," she wanted to add but then refrained from it.

"I must have clawed at myself then."

She looked so unhappy it tore at him.

"Is it infected? It doesn't hurt."

"Just a little, but it'll leave a scar," he said softly, almost apologetically.

"A forever keepsake of the time I was sick with the chickenpox," she tried to shrug it off rather sarcastically.

"I have a similar one of my time being sick. It's in the same place actually," he smiled.

Her eyes traced the faint scar on his forehead.

He was right, it was in the exact same corner as hers, almost eerily so, leaving her wondering for a moment if there was a meaning to that concurrence.

"So, are you done for the day?"

Liz felt the need to change the subject, before she would say or do something embarrassingly stupid.

"Yes, you're my last patient."

"Do you have time to join me for a cup of tea? I just made some before you arrived."

She didn't want him to leave just yet, so she tried to keep her voice steady and natural sounding with the invitation.

To her delight he nodded. "I'd love some tea."

She rose but he stopped her, gently pulling her back.

"No, you rest, I get the tea" he said, raising instead.

She looked up, smiling, when he took a blanket from the far end of the sofa and tucked it around her.

"I'll be right back."

Liz watched him leave for the kitchen and shook her head at herself.

What was is about him that appealed to her? That affected her the way it did and made him so irresistible?

She knew she was a stupid fool to fall for his warm and giving nature and his generous heart, but she also knew she didn't really want to fight the feelings he roused in her, regardless how much they'd hurt eventually.

He was such an amazing man and she would just enjoy every second with him, capture every precious moment and save the memories until it ended. She could still deal with her broken heart then.

Yes, that's what she was going to do.

Happy with that decision, she continued to watch him, how effortlessly he roamed around in her kitchen, opening the right cabinet doors to get cups and a little sugar.

A few moments later he came back with the tea, handed it to her, and sat down beside her. She let her hands purposely touch Raymond's as he passed her the tea-filled cup and murmured a grateful thank you.

Sipping their tea, they drifted into contented silence, as they sat together, their bodies slightly touching.

Watching her cradle the porcelain cup in the palms of her delicate hands and carefully enjoying the hot liquid, he felt himself begin to unwind from the stress of the day.

He hoped he had the same calming effect on her when he caught her in the middle of a heartfelt yawn.

They both smiled.

"Sleepy?" he asked.

"Awfully," she confessed.

"I'll leave you alone then."

He was reluctant to leave but he didn't feel comfortable staying either. He knew she needed sleep; it was the best medicine.

Liz stretched out behind him, snuggled up against a pillow and closed her eyes. The little time she'd spent with him had made her feel so much better.

He got up, took the empty mugs and put them in the sink in the kitchen.

Opening the fridge, he frowned at the contents, it was almost empty.

He came back with half a bottle of juice and placed it on the table to remind her that she had to drink.

Motionless, he stood there for a long moment, gazing at her resting form, drinking her in with strong appreciation.

She was breathing deeply, her chest rising and falling evenly. She looked fragile and tired and yet so beautiful it made his stomach ache.

Raymond reached out and gently put his hand on her shoulder to say goodbye but she didn't stir; she was already fast asleep.

He couldn't help himself as he touched her hair. Just lightly. Just for a second.

For another heart-stopping minute, he longed to stroke her cheek with his thumb, to touch her mouth with his own, kissing her sweet lips.

The urge was so strong, he leaned forward, her face inches from his, his lips tingling in anticipation.

He shut his eyes, overwhelmed by the intense yearning. He was so close now, so close to fulfilling the desire that had taken possession of him the day they first met.

But he couldn't take advantage of her like that. Not without her consent, not when she was asleep like this.

He licked his lips in despair, then aimed for another target.

The whisper-light stroke against her forehead she felt might have been a dream, but she wanted to believe it was real, that he'd kissed her there.

Do it again. Please…

She felt light-headed, dazed by her fever and her own drowsiness.

Then she felt the same feather-like caress brush the hair from her face, his warm breath near her right ear quickened her pulse.

"Good night, Lizzy," he murmured. "I'll be back tomorrow."

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Elizabeth stood naked in front of the wardrobe mirror and looked at herself for a long time, examining herself intently.

She had lost weight and looked haggard, but her smooth slender legs weren't too thin yet; she still had a cute round ass, and a handful of breasts left to present.

It had to be enough, she decided, but then she unhappily sighed at her reflection, nonetheless.

If only the spots didn't litter her entire body. Every morning she hoped they'd miraculously disappeared over night, vanished as suddenly as they had emerged, but that wasn't granted to her.

While she could hide most of them under her clothes, there was nothing she could do about the eruptions in her face and especially the one on her upper lip which troubled her the most and made her look downright disgusting.

"Pimples from hell." She cursed and opened the wardrobe door.

She found herself eagerly anticipating Raymond's visit this evening and she wanted to wear something other than her simple, cheap nightgown. She wanted something that would make her look more like a woman and less of a patient.

Going through every piece in her closet, she looked for something that wasn't too flamboyant or too obvious, something that made her beautiful on a rather subtle level. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was as forthright or having an agenda as Madeline had when they'd met.

All she wanted was him to notice her just like she'd noticed him.

Her entire plan came crushing down however, when the skinny dark blue jeans she tried on didn't go well with the spots on her skin and especially those nasty ones between her legs.

It itched, chafed and hurt and Liz had to admit to herself that it was impossible to wear anything close-fitting for a while longer.

Frustrated, highly discouraged and close to tears, she slipped into her best pair of black soft leggings and a loose chunky grey knit sweater, then slammed the wardrobe door shut.

He'd never notice her like this.

Entering her bathroom, all she could do was wash her hair, brush it an extra fifty strokes, and allow her natural waves to fall unbound over her shoulders.

A short while later, she opened the door to Raymond, who held a grocery bag filled to the top in his arms.

She looked at him, trying desperately to control herself from letting him see just how happy she was to see him. Her heart was pounding furiously in excitement as she flashed the smile he loved so much.

"Good evening, Lizzy," he said cheerfully and came in, kicking off his snow-soaked shoes before he walked past her and straight into her kitchen.

"Hello Doctor," she said, surprised, and followed him.

He lifted the grocery bag on the counter and immediately started to sort and put the groceries away.

"I noticed your empty fridge last night, so I took the liberty of stocking up your supplies," he explained as he caught her questioning expression. "I figured you're still too weak to do it yourself."

"Oh, that's true. Thank you."

His thoughtfulness touched her deeply but made her uncomfortable as well. She wondered for the hundred time how she could ever pay him back for all that he had done and continued to do.

He nodded. "No problem."

"So, what do I owe you for the groceries?" she asked and came to stand beside him.

"Nothing," he said.

"Come on, let me pay you."

He shook his head. He wasn't going to accept money from her.

"They're on me."

"You really don't have to…"

"How's my patient today?" he interrupted, silencing her with the change of subject.

She sighed and gave in. She'd find a way to make it up to him once she was better, she promised herself.

"Today is my first day without fever," she answered.

"That's wonderful," he smiled. "You'll feel so much better from now on."

"I hope so."

She beamed back at him, her eyes sparkling with delight.

Raymond had noticed her blue eyes before, of course, but this evening they seemed especially attractive. In fact, everything about her was downright appealing tonight.

He tilted his head to one side as he looked at her.

He thought she looked unbelievable cute in her big sweater and it took all his strength to keep his fingers from touching her soft hair.

She was so beautiful, so funny and intelligent, and she sent his pulse rate soaring to dangerous levels whenever she was close, like now.

Snapping himself out of his reverie, he reached inside the bag and pulled out a long narrow box.

"I've brought you something else."

He handed her the container and curious she opened it, revealing a tube containing lotion.

"What's that?"

"It's a special creme that helps to heal your skin and prevent scarring once the scabs fall off."

Liz starred in wonder at the tube, then at him.

"I know the spots make you unhappy, so this should help."

"Thank you. You're so sweet."

She looked into his eyes and before she knew what she was doing, she stood on tiptoe, put her arms around Raymond's shoulder, leaned in and kissed his cheek.

Her warm lips pressed against his skin and with a stunning rush of desire, he realized that he would only have to move his head a fraction to touch her lips with his.

She found herself lingering a little longer than necessary, basking in the closeness, of him being so near.

When he turned his head, she thought he wanted to pull away, instead she found his mouth right in front of hers.

Slowly, with a sweetness that was unbearably moving, she tentatively touched her lips to his.

He seemed surprised and paused for just a second before he kissed her back.

Warmth spread into her belly as ropes of tension and awareness tangled together.

The fact that she shouldn't be doing this started to flare in her mind, but she ignored it, her desire for him overpowering common sense.

His mouth was soft and pliant as he brushed it back and forth across hers; he stroked her lips with his in a whisper-like caress, carefully avoiding the spot on her lip, so as not to hurt her.

"Lizzy," Raymond said tenderly against her lips and pulled her body closer to his, her low moan his reward.

His large hands circled and locked onto her waist, when the urgent ringing of his cell phone interrupted them.

Like a deer caught in headlights, Raymond abruptly broke the kiss. He took one step back and then another, putting distance between them without looking at her.

His hand fished for the phone in his coat pocket as he turned away from her.

Swallowing the rising hurt at his retreat, she assumed who the caller was.

"This is Dr. Reddington."

His stoic, cold voice brought an unpleasant shiver down her spine.

"I'm still with a patient, but I'm done here."

He started to pace alongside the counter as he listened to the voice on the other end.

"Ok, I'm on my way."

He flipped his phone shut, then finally acknowledged her presence.

"I'm sorry Elizabeth, I have to go."

He left the room, wordlessly put on his shoes and was gone.

Liz still stood unmoving in the kitchen, blinking back tears, then closed her eyes in mortification and shame.

What had just happened?

The kiss was a mistake, that much she knew, and the way he'd responded was an even bigger mistake.

She went over the reasons again why none of this could be, as if to convince herself she was acting rationally. Two facts stood out prominently: He was her doctor and he was unavailable.

So why did he respond to the kiss? And why did he care so much for her in the first place?

Liz's thoughts continued to swirl. It wasn't just that he did all these surprising and wonderful things for her, it was also the extra time he spent with her. Wasn't Madeline waiting for him at home? Shouldn't he at least try to avoid any more trouble with that woman?

Well, he had ended the kiss as quickly as he had given in to it, which brought her back to her original thought: It was a mistake.

An hour later Raymond sat in his car in front of her house, gathering enough courage to exit and ring at her door.

It was snowing again. White flakes fell thickly from a leaden sky and he watched them piling up on the windshield until he saw nothing.

The sky precisely mirrored how he felt on the inside. Clouded, blurred and jumbled. He was a mess, because Liz had kissed him.

His heart painfully hammered in his chest; he knew they had to talk about what happened. He owed her an explanation and most likely an apology.

When Liz opened the door, her heart skipped a nervous beat. She didn't know what she had expected but certainly not that he would come back so soon.

She was dressed for bed and she shivered as the wind whipped snow into her door, stinging her face. He immediately stepped closer, trying to block the door with his body to protect her from the cold.

"I'm sorry I left in such a rush earlier. The head office had an emergency," he tried to explain.

"I see. Come in," she said.

She could have sworn it had been Madeline on the phone, that would explain his sudden pullback.

He sat down on the couch but wasn't surprised when she didn't join him but remained standing. Folding her arms and raising her chin, she gave him a mutinous look that was truly adorable.

"What were you thinking?" she accused.

"Me? You were the one who kissed me."

He smirked and gave a small laugh.

"The way you'd cared about me somehow had made me believe you were feeling more."

"I do care about you, Lizzy. You've become a good friend to me."

They'd become a lot more than friends and he knew it, but he wasn't ready to admit it just yet, not before he knew where this conversation was going.

She stared at him as her heart sank.

A friend.

Why did it hurt so much to hear him say that, she thought, crushed by the indifference.

"Well, the correct term would be patient. I'm your patient."

Liz stressed every word.

"And your behavior has been totally out of line and inappropriate," she stated bitterly, her lips quivering.

He saw that she was upset, almost angry and it was everything he needed to know.

He rose and approached her, but his step slowed when he saw tears trickle down her face.

She looked so sad and vulnerable, he felt a lurch of affection and yearning towards her.

He had to tell her the truth right now, this minute, no more waiting or excuses.

"I think I'm in love with you."

She let the information sink in, but it didn't have the desired effect.

"Don't. We can't."

She shook her head vehemently.

"This is ridiculous. You need to leave."

She pointed at the door.

"I came back here tonight so we could figure out whatever this is between us."

He motioned between the two of them.

"There is no us, Raymond. You belong to someone else. That's reality."

"No, not anymore. Madeline and I broke up the day I went home after the storm. I've moved out and have been living in a cheap motel since."

"What?! Why didn't you tell me?" she whispered.

"I was afraid, and I started to worry because I didn't know, wasn't really certain, if that's what you wanted and if you felt the same for me."

He framed her face between his hands, his thumb whipped her tears away from her cheeks.

"I love you, Lizzy. More than I want to, since the day we met."

"You can't like the way I look."

"Why not?"

"I'm ugly."

"You're beautiful. And desirable."

"I don't believe you."

He chuckled and leaned his forehead against hers.

"I want to kiss you again," he breathed.

She closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of him. There was no choice but to surrender to him and her pulse quickened as their lips met, slow, gentle and sweet.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Raymond continued to visit Liz every day after his shift, spending as much time together as possible. They got to know each other very well and grew close.

It was a happy time and they were very much in love.

Raymond still enjoyed spoiling her, pampering and caring for her. He was very romantic too. He wrote love notes to her which she found in the morning when he was already at work. He brought her cards, candy, flowers and stuffed animals which he claimed he had heroically freed from imprisonment in various stores.

Liz found herself feeling like an admired and appreciated woman; she hadn't felt like that in a long time.

Their only dilemma was that while their mental intimacy intensified, their physical closeness had to wait. Her spots made it impossible to become intimate.

Simple kissing was a challenge and once it grew more passionate it ended at an odd, awkward angle.

Raymond didn't mind. He was an understanding, patient man and content with hugs and cuddles. It was Liz who grew increasingly frustrated and dissatisfied with the situation.

She longed for him to love her, to want her, to need her, as she much as she desired him and wanted to love him in return, but being the gentleman that he was, he always stopped whenever they got carried away. As much as she appreciated his thoughtfulness, her self-confidence suffered immensely as a result and she didn't feel good enough for him.

Every day under the shower she tested the capability of her body, touched and probed at herself but it was no use. The spots needed at least another week of healing.

Liz usually cooked dinner in the evenings unless Raymond brought their favorite Chinese takeout.

They always ended up cuddling on the couch afterwards. Sometimes they watched TV, sometimes they just talked.

He left when Liz fell asleep, on rare occasions he stayed when after an exhausting day he fell asleep right along with her.

Tonight, she lay sprawled across his chest, comforted by his strong arms around her. Her fingers had begun playing with the buttons of his shirt, slowly popping them open, revealing just enough chest hair to transport a message to certain parts of her body.

Her eyes smoked over, and she rose up to kiss him, sweet soft butterfly kisses and gentle nibbles.

The brush of her soft lips sensitized his skin. It seemed impossible to be so achingly hard over these innocent kisses, but he was.

He shuddered and his hands clutched her more tightly, but he didn't make a move toward her breasts or bottom.

He could tell by the look of Liz's flushed face and the little impatient sounds she made that she was equally aroused, but they had to stop.

She buried her face against his shoulder in despair and felt like crying.

"I want you so bad, I can't stand the wait any longer. It's killing me," she admitted unhappily.

"Sweetheart, I want you too, but we can't. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Can I at least please you?" She asked hopefully and tugged at his pants.

"No!" He caught her groping hand and placed gentle kisses on her fingertips. "Not until you're ready to receive the favor."

He saw the anger she harbored at herself in her eyes and how she worked herself up over her incapability, how she silently suffered the humiliation of her illness.

It stirred compassion in his heart and a desire to alleviate her misery.

"I have an idea," he said and moved to sit against the headboard.

He then pulled her between his legs, her back rested on his lap and her head on his chest.

He looked down at her, a little smile on his face when she snuggled back against him, making herself comfortable. He felt so good, his body warm, protective and close behind her.

Tentatively he bent down to kiss her again. His hands rested on her stomach, right under her breasts. The kiss was gentle and unchallenging; he just slightly brushed his lips over hers. His right hand slowly ran down between her legs and caressed her inner thigh.

"Raymond, what are you doing?"

"Making you feel good. It won't hurt, I promise."

"I haven't shaved or trimmed or anything because of the spots."

"I don't mind," he reassured her, blowing her away with his total acceptance of her condition all over again.

He hooked his hand under the waistband of her panties and rolled them down past her knees. She wriggled out of them the rest of the way, then opened her legs for him.

Accepting the invitation, his fingers found their way through her curls, reaching her opening.

Before she had time to wonder what he could possibly want to do without interferences of the spots, he placed the pad of his middle finger with unerring accuracy directly over her clit. The tender contact made her gasp, and like a surge of lightning, it electrified her entire body.

He started to swirl delicately around it, and he could feel the tiny bump rise up to meet his finger.

With each caress it grew bigger and stiffened and by the time he completed a dozen circles around it, tiny sounds of her wetness were audible, almost embarrassingly so.

"Feel good?" he asked in her ear, making her moan in response and arch upward, seeking more, wanting more of the sensual fondling.

"Yes, please keep going," she whimpered softly and let him do whatever he desired.

Intolerably aroused, she grabbed onto his legs for support, clutching her fingers deep into the fabric of his jeans, as the circling motions around her swollen bud turned into quick flicks over the hood.

He watched in awe and wonder how she shuddered heavily in his lap, feeding and heightening his own arousal. Pressure throbbed at the base of his groin, but he ignored the sensation.

Tremors of pleasure made her thighs fall wide open in submission and by the way she tried to grind closer to his touch he knew she was close.

Applying just a little more pressure on the sensitive bundle of nerves, he drove her higher and higher until a last sure sweep brought her over the edge, to fall into searing bliss.

She trembled in wild abandon and called out his name in a long, drawn-out moan he'd never in his life forget.

He went on rubbing her until she'd ridden out each wave of pleasure. Out of breath she turned around and collapsed against his chest. Winding his arms around her, he embraced her back, in attempt to calm her.

As Liz rested her head on his shoulder, she was deeply moved by the magnitude of his generosity and unselfishness. Even in bed, Raymond had given her what she needed but took nothing. He'd put her happiness and pleasure above his own. What a wonderful man he was.

But this time she wouldn't let him get away with it. This time he would receive his share.

The palms of her hands were spot-free and she was determined to put them to good use.

The edge of his shirt had come untucked from his pants when she had writhed against him in lust and exposed a strip of flesh. Unable to resist, Liz ran her fingers back and forth over his skin, which evoked a groan from him.

She slipped her hand further under his shirt, following down the trail of hair below his navel. It was coarse to her touch and got thicker the lower she went.

He sucked in a breath when she brushed her hand over the bulge straining the front of his jeans.

His stomach quivered and she heard another low, hungry moan falling from his lips when she playfully squeezed him.

Her smoldering gaze blinked at him.

"I'll take care of you now."

His cock throbbed in agreement. He was already aroused just from watching her.

"Yes," Raymond begged, helpless to resist. "Yes, please."

Liz carefully pulled the zipper down and peeled his pants away from the black briefs that barely contained his straining erection.

She pushed the fabric away just enough to have room to stroke him.

Liz moaned at the size of him. He was nicely shaped, stood tall and thick and she shocked him by placing a tiny kiss right on the tip of it.

Wrapping her hand around him, she moved her palm along his shaft, languidly stroking him, swirling her thumb over his exquisitely sensitive, already precum leaking head.

He groaned and arched into her hold, fighting for control.

"God, Lizzy …"

Pressure built at the base of his cock when she tightened her grip, moving harder and faster.

Raymond closed his eyes and squirmed, grunting loudly, jerking his hips forward, thrusting into her squeezing palm unchecked.

Liz felt his orgasm rushing closer, stiffening him like a rod of iron. His penis seemed to dry-heave for a few seconds, then it twitched wildly as he spurted hot jets of creamy white come into her waiting hand.

His whole body shuddered with the power of his release and she held him until he relaxed.

She hurried to the guest bathroom to wash her sticky hands and came back with a hand towel to wipe his cock clean.

His body was still pulsing with the fading pleasure when she curled up next to him. He pulled her against him, feathering kisses on the tip of her nose, her eyelids and forehead.

"That was wonderful, thank you sweetheart," he murmured, her shy smile tugging at his heart.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked.

"Yep, I got the best spot in the house," she stated and snuggled closer against him, draping one leg over his, making him chuckle.

"Can you stay the night?" she asked. "Stay right by my side?"

"I'd love to."

Raymond normally insisted on returning to the motel he was staying at ever since he'd separated from Madeline. Her home felt lonelier every time he did, so she was glad that he wanted to stay tonight.

She knew they were together for only a couple of days, but she already wished he'd stay indefinitely.

She wanted to sleep curled at his side in her bedroom and wake with him every morning. Share a coffee. Share a shower. Maybe share a life together. She wanted that more than anything, but her fancy outran her daring.

She knew it was too early to ask, to make these life-changing decisions. Hell, she hadn't told him she loved him yet, even though she knew she did.

All in good time, she promised herself, then closed her eyes as sleep called out to her.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

The first rays of sunshine broke through the sky, gradually melting the snow of past weeks and filling the air with the promise of spring.

Raymond smiled as he drove along the streets in his repaired Mercedes on his way to Elizabeth. He had turned on the radio and was tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the music.

He was coming from a final meeting with Madeline. He had picked up the rest of his belongings and they had signed papers.

He'd gifted their shared apartment to her. The loan had been paid off, and because he'd been more financially secure than she, he'd left her the apartment with good grace.

Yes, maybe he'd been far more generous than she deserved; maybe it was his way of buying himself out, but he felt strangely relieved and free when he'd pulled out of the driveway for the last time, never to return.

Now he was looking forward to see his Lizzy, couldn't wait to be near her, to feel her body close to his, to smell her hair and her body, to feel the shivers that came from her when he touched and held her, to feel his own body tremble when she touched him.

He was deeply in love, and its intensity was as overwhelming and exhilarating as it was calming, giving him a sense of peace and contentment.

After everything she went through with her husband, he didn't know if Liz felt the same yet, but he understood why she was careful to trust and love another man again, so he'd sworn to himself that he'd make her see that he was worth giving it a try.

He also knew her sickness was holding her back as well, but they had time.

Reaching his destination, he parked his car in front of Liz's house, took his doctor's bag and headed toward the entrance.

Liz stood at the kitchen stove stirring something delightfully inviting in a cooking pot.

She was almost completely healed; the spots were fading and caused her no difficulty at all anymore. In a few days she would be back at work too.

Excited and buzzing with anticipation, she had finally been able to don the tight blue jeans that complimented her well-shaped hips and legs. A red satin blouse, open just enough to reveal a tantalizing cleavage, accompanied her outfit.

Furthermore, she was thoroughly prepared for what she had planned tonight and couldn't wait for Raymond to arrive.

The ring of the doorbell called Liz out of the kitchen and she quickly opened the door so he could get himself inside, while she rushed back into the kitchen to turn off the stove.

"Come in," she called. "I just need a minute."

Raymond closed the door, put down his bag, removed his coat and hung it up.

Following the delicious smell that was wafting from the kitchen and making his mouth water, he found her blowing the contents on a spoon, then took it into her mouth, tasting.

"It smells absolutely divine, sweetheart. What is it?"

She filled the spoon again, rapped it on the edge of the pot and offered it to him.

He blew on it as well before he took it into his mouth.

"It's beef stew with carrots and potatoes."

"It tastes wonderful."

She put the spoon away and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him to her for a kiss.

"Hi." She greeted him, smiling broadly.

"Hi Lizzy."

It was then that he noticed her outfit. He took a small step back, his eyes skimming over her in appreciation.

"You look really amazing tonight," he murmured, looking as if he were caressing her with his eyes.

"You're the occasion," she seductively replied and moistened her lips before she pulled his lips down to hers again.

Her kiss was warm and slow and deliciously tempting, drawing him in, coaxing him to surrender.

To his surprise she slipped her tongue past his lips, sweeping it into his mouth to explore him with tentative strokes as a low groan rumbled deep in his chest.

They hadn't kissed like that before. Hot, deep and long kisses, utterly soul-shattering as tongues swirled, dueled and darted, leaving him burning for more.

Blood rushed to his manhood. Want, need, desire … all slammed into him.

He eased his hands down her back and stopped at the rise of her buttocks, his fingers caressing the tight curve of her bottom. As he pulled her pelvis to his own, the hard bulge of his cock crushed between them and Liz felt herself grinding her body against him.

His scent permeated her senses and she whimpered, pressing herself closer to him. Slipping one leg higher so that the cushion of her soft core rubbed him tightly, she inflamed him further, driving him mad with lust for her.

Panting, he tore his mouth away from hers and she shivered from the loss of his touch. She caressed his cheek, wanting to keep the contact.

He was visibly trembling as well; his eyes flared with excitement and hunger, his breath whistled harshly in and out of his lungs.

"How do you feel about skipping dinner and heading straight for dessert?" She asked boldly, whispering in his ear.

"Are you sure?" He asked, his voice deep and raspy.

He'd patiently waited for this day, for her to be ready to take the next step.

"Yes Raymond. I want you to make love to me."

Determined she took his hand. "Follow me."

Liz led him from the kitchen, through the living room and into the corridor. As much as she loved to exchange intimacies with him on the couch, she had prepared the bed in her bedroom for this special cause.

"Wait a second." He said as they passed his doctor's bag, reminding him of his responsibilities.

He bent down and opened the bag, then opened another small compartment inside and pulled out a package of condoms.

"Do we really need them?" She asked. "I'm on the pill."

"Yes, but you were on antibiotics for a few days and they may inhibit the pill's effectiveness. It's better to be safe than sorry, don't you think?"

"Yes, of course."

The reality check put a damper on Liz's mood, but Raymond was very clever at reading her and seemed to know just what to say.

"I'll make sure you'll hardly notice it's there," he said smugly, grinning at her with self-confidence.

"I can't wait," She laughed in return and waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

They climbed up the stairs together and soon reached her bedroom. Liz closed the door behind them, then leaned against it, suddenly feeling nervous, as she watched him place the package of condoms on her nightstand.

Her heart was pounding so hard she thought he might hear it across the room.

Raymond turned to see her standing there, looking unusually shy and hesitant and a little lost. His heart went out to her, the now familiar urge to protect her engulfed him again.

He crossed the room and took her in his arms, melting his heart as she wove her arms around his neck, holding onto him tightly and snuggling her face against his chest, relaxing instantly.

Touched by the loving gesture of understanding, she knew she had to open to him about her feelings. In the past days, he had never hesitated to continuously show his love and affection for her and not once he had expected a response, but he deserved one. She needed him to know before she would give herself to him.

She had no idea how she was going to tell him how the three necessary words would form into a coherent sentence and emerge from her mouth, but she knew she had to tell him right now before she would lose her nerve.

"I … love you, Raymond," she said softly, though shaky, looking up to gaze into his eyes.

His heart leapt up in his chest, and he stared at her words in wonder.

"Oh Lizzy," he whispered and kissed her deeply, shuddering immediately at how good it felt.

She moaned and he moved his lips along her cheek to kiss the curve of her ear.

"I love you, too."

They kissed again and when they separated, he ran a finger down into the crevice of her cleavage.

He looked deeply into her eyes and she gasped at the longing she saw.

She paused a moment, then biting her bottom lip, she began to undo the small pearl buttons of her blouse.

As she opened each button, he leaned forward to place soft kisses on the new flesh exposed. Liz was nearly out of her mind with need by the time she pulled the hem from her waistband and opened the blouse wide for him.

She wore a delicate black bra, edged with lace and pleated silk. Feeling brave, she slowly unclasped the front closure and lifted it, freeing her breasts.

He watched her every move, his mouth worked rapidly but no words came out.

Her blouse and bra fell to the floor.

She pushed her jeans down her hips, wiggling out of them.

Her panties matched her bra, but she left him little time to admire the small piece of fabric as it quickly joined her other clothes on the floor.

He held his breath when he saw her in her "full glory." She was stunning, so unbelievable beautiful. His heavy-lidded eyes hungrily devoured every inch of her creamy flesh.

He'd seen her naked before, had since then suppressed his bodily responses and urges, but now for the first time, he allowed himself to really look at her and allowed all sensations and feelings to wash over him and consume him.

Needing her to touch him, he slid his shirt off and tossed it aside. His breathing became ragged as she accepted the silent invitation and roamed her hands over his chest and his broad shoulder and back.

Liz swallowed when she heard the metallic clink of his belt and the rasp of the zipper. Her eyes landed on the very large, very hard package pressing against the worn denim of his jeans.

A quick shove was all it took to bare his straining cock, greeting her eagerly.

She sighed in appreciation and her insides clenched in response, wetting her inner walls.

Both naked now, they stood in front of the bed and Raymond pulled her back into his arms. He could not believe how wonderful she felt, all her curves and her incredible softness.

He brushed her hair off her neck and planted a tender kiss there, then on her chest, taking a moment to inhale her, making sure she was real, that this was really happening.

Liz took Raymond by the hand then and they climbed slowly onto the sheets.

They stretched out beside each other, eagerly exchanging kisses and touches.

Liz cavorted freely over him, her delicate hands gliding like silk across his chest, shoulders, stomach, arms and legs, ignoring the protrusion against his inner thigh.

A low sigh escaped past his lips and he closed his eyes, basking in her gentle caresses. It was beautiful agony and he was beyond aroused.

He gasped and moaned when her tongue slid against his neck, his nipples and down his belly, her teeth nipping at him with each pass, making him squirm.

She lightly kissed his abdomen, then teasingly took him into her mouth.

"Sweetheart, no," he panted. Pleasure beyond imagination flowed through him, swirling, as she licked and suckled at the sensitive tip.

He was at the very edge of what little control he had, his body heating, his breath stuttering at her touch.

Finally, at his limit, he reached blindly for her, pulling her away from this throbbing cock and up his body.

A soft wicked giggle rumbled against his chest, then his throat.

Damn her, what she did to him. He loved her so much.

He found her mouth and kissed her, rolling her under him to start a torturous teasing of his own.

Liz' skin sprang to life with a thousand nerves as his lips wandered down to her throat. Her breath came in ragged gasps, each lifting her breasts and pushing them temptingly toward him. He kissed his way to one taut peak and blew warm air over it. Lowering his head, he took her nipple in his mouth, sucking her strongly as she cupped the back of his head, holding him to her.

He paid equal attention to her other breast, tasting that nipple, too, and giving it the same loving treatment.

Releasing her nipple, he began to string a nibbling path down her body. Careful bites here, licking there, tiny kisses all over her skin until she could only quake and gasp.

He slid between her legs until he could see the plump lips of her sex, covered in a neatly trimmed triangle of dark hair that was soft as kitten's fur.

He could smell her arousal, a scent that hit him like an aphrodisiac cloud.

"Spread your legs."

Did that thick guttural voice really belong to him?

A blush heightened the color of her cheeks, yet her blue eyes sparkled with relish at his command as she spread her legs wide for him.

Parting her nether lips with his thumbs, he admired the amount of glistening moisture.

He groaned in anticipation as he leaned down to taste.

Salt and woman and desirous lust.

Liz ground her head deeply into the cushions as Raymond lapped in greedy strokes, pausing to probe, swirl or thrust. His tongue tantalized her clit, but he constantly adjusted his rhythm to avoid giving her relief.

Liz arched her back, grinding shamelessly, helplessly against his face.

He continued to tease her with those sinful kisses and caresses of his tongue, turning her to liquid in his arms. She'd never been pleasured like this, like she was the most desirable woman on earth, and he wanted to keep doing it all night.

He made her forget all her inhibitions, fears and insecurities about herself, making her feel insanely perfect and desirable instead.

He stopped and drew back to slide a long finger into her creamy depths. Tight muscles gripped the digit as he lazily moved in and out.

Liz craned her neck to watch him. She, too, was helplessly fascinated by the sight of his large finger sliding between her thighs and entering her body.

Very slowly Raymond pushed in a second finger to join the first.

"Is this okay?" he asked, considerate as always.

"This is perfect." Liz nodded.

"If you're hurting at any point I'll stop, okay? Just say it."

"Okay. Thank you, Raymond."

Her muscles squeezed around his fingers once more, needing him to continue.

"You're delicious," he rasped, imagining the sensations awaiting his aching cock. "And incredibly wet."

"So, when are you going to do something about it?" Liz growled, sounding as impatient as he felt.

"Right now." He pushed up on hands and knees and quickly reached for one of the foil packages on the nightstand. His hands shook as he sheathed his cock in the thin latex.

He settled over her and she parted her thighs for him.

From the tautness of his features, Liz knew he wanted to plunge, but he took his time, gripping the heavy rigid shaft, angling it away from his stomach to rub the swollen head around her tender opening, coating himself thoroughly with her wetness.

Rotating his pelvis, he grinded himself into her clit; he couldn't resist teasing her one last time.

She held her breath when his cock suddenly pushed past her entrance and slowly stretched its way inside her. Sparks flared between them, hot and intense as she lifted her legs higher, hooking them around his waist, opening herself so that she could take him in even deeper.

Buried completely inside her, Raymond held still, fighting to make allowances for her straining body to grow accustomed to him throbbing hard and thick inside her.

She was tight, hot and wet around him and a muscle in his cheek clenched in barely controlled restraint, as his nostrils flared with each indrawing breath.

He traced the shell of her ear with his tongue, feeling her slick sex clasp him in response.

"You feel amazing, sweetheart."

"So do you."

She cupped his face in her palms, caressing and silently pleading.

"But can you just …?"

He silenced her with a hungry kiss and finally started to move.

He withdrew slowly, the maddening clenching in her core as her body tried to hold him deep created an intense and overwhelming friction. Then he pushed back in and the earth seemed to shift with them.

The pleasure was staggering, and she moaned, a raw, desperate sound of need.

He found a rhythm and stuck to it; long, excruciatingly slow strokes in and out, all the while watching her face.

She didn't lie passively under him but met his every thrust, savoring the feeling of his small shudders as she caressed his back and buttocks, scraping her nails in patterns everywhere she could reach.

"Faster," she murmured, breathing hard, wanting it to last nearly as badly as she wanted to come.

He rolled his hips in answer, grinding hard, screwing deep, creating more of that delicious friction that drove her mad.

Liz bit back the scream resulting from sheer pleasure. Raymond captured her gasp with a feverish kiss, moving his tongue in sync with his plunging cock.

Shaking and on the edge of no return, she broke their kiss, needing all her breath to survive the impending release.

Her orgasm erupted brightly, lighting her body up in one merciless wave after another.

He cursed as she cried out and rippled along his length, his desire escalating uncontrollably.

Groaning her name again and again, he came hard and long, jerking heavily against her, shuddering with every wrenching pulse, his hands fisting the bedclothes on either side of her head.

Liz took it all, cradling him as he shattered like she had mere moments earlier, anchoring him amid the storm.

After what felt like an eternity of endless drugging pleasure rolling through them, he eased himself out, and she immediately resented the loss.

He left her only for a second to remove and knot the condom, carelessly ditching it onto the floor.

Catching her around the waist, he rolled onto his back, pulling her closely against his side. Liz gave a content sigh, curving one arm across his chest while easing a possessive leg over both of his.

This loving passionate, sensitive, devoted man was hers now.

Within minutes they fell asleep, nestled in each other's arms.

The next day, Raymond woke up to a cold sensation on his morning erection.

Opening his eyes, he found Liz sitting gloriously naked beside him, her soft lips pursed in a playfully mischievous grin.

She'd fitted his stethoscope into her ears and now pressed the cold plate against his sensitive parts.

He decided to play along to see where this led.

"What's wrong with me, doctor?" He asked, smiling back at her.

"You're in serious condition, I'm afraid."

She let the round metal end wander down his stiff shaft and pretended to listen to related sounds, shaking her head dramatically.

"This is not good. Not good at all," she stated, serious now, except for her blue eyes flashing in excitement.

"Can you help me, doctor?" he asked. "Is there anything you can do?"

"Yes, there is."

Liz put the stethoscope away, trying to make herself important.

"It needs to be massaged and it needs friction to release the pressure."

Her hand cupped him boldly, her fingers wrapped around his length.

"I'll see to it personally."

"Yes, please, doctor."

Pumping him, just the way he liked it, a low growl tumbled off his lips and he hardened fully in seconds.

"Hm, this isn't efficient enough. On the contrary, your condition just worsened," she said, faking displeasure.

"Oh no…" he moaned.

"Let me try something else." She suggested, bent down and took him into her mouth.

He hissed and pushed his hips up as her tongue curled around the broad, flared head, tasting the pearly drops there.

His balls tightened, his cock growing even more in the hot slide of her mouth as she suckled and lapped at him greedily.

Before he could lose himself to the lust however, she released him with a plop.

"This isn't working either," she lovingly scolded.

"That leaves me no other choice."

She reached for a condom on the bedside table, quickly tore open the foil package. Rolling it down his cock, she took her time, letting her fingers linger on his skin to excite him further.

He was beautifully contoured, his erection big and thick, the skin of the shaft and bulb of the head velvet soft. The heavy, voluptuous round globes of his testicles were drawn up tight underneath.

With precise movements, she straddled him, one leg on either side of his hips.

Locking eyes with Raymond, she reached for his rock-hard penis and dragged him through her wetness before she lowered herself agonizing slow, one delicious inch at a time, until she'd taken all of him inside her.

For a moment she remained still, unable to do anything but let the sensations pound through her.

With a shuddering purr, she ran her hands up his chest, her fingertips trying to memorize the mats of his chest hair.

Then, she rose above him, only to plunge straight back down, once more impaling herself fully on him. Strong inner muscles clamped down on him, held him and squeezed powerfully to give him the most possible pleasure.

A growl rolled up from his throat, and the length of him shuddered at the sensations. Brutal lines of lust etched his handsome face.

Her doctor's game completely forgotten, she rode him, slowly at first and with ever-increasing strokes to build tension. Her hips circled and rotated above and around him, leaving them both panting in delight.

Liz's gaze stayed locked on Raymond's, watching his eyes to gauge his pleasure as her own need coiled deep in her belly.

He moved his hands up to her breasts, grabbing one in each hand and rubbing her nipples with his thumbs. They stood out large and hardened.

She was so damned sexy he was losing his mind.

The motions of her hips grew faster, sharper, and he clasped her waist between his hands to urge her on. Arching his back, he matched her pace, driving himself deeply into her, watching as she tilted her head back on a lustful cry at the sensation of the back of her womb pressing against his cockhead.

With each thrust he hit her sweet spot and she howled in lust; the guttural sound feral.

Her climax just a breath away, her body started to shake as she tried to hold off.

Determined to make him come first and hanging on to her control by the thinnest thread, Liz poured everything she had into riding him, coming down on him with escalating urgency.

Needing the connection, their fingers meshed desperately as they held hands and Raymond exploded.

Liz drank in the sight of him coming before his hoarse cries of pleasure set hers free.

They shuddered together in ecstasy, oblivious to anything but each other.

She gave a long sigh and collapsed onto his chest, lingering series of aftershocks running through her like a river.

He cradled her close, kissing the top of her head, while his fingers lazily traced her spine.

They rested snuggled together in drowsy stillness for a long time, relishing the tranquil aftermath of their lovemaking.

"I think I'm healed," he ascertained.

"That may be only temporary. In my experience your condition needs lifelong therapy."

Giggling, she lifted her head. She was glowing, her smile, her eyes, all of her.

Raymond fell in love with her all over again.

"I think I'm in good hands with my doctor," he said, winking at her.

"Yes, you are," she agreed pleased, sinking back down on his chest, feeling his heartbeat and breathing in his scent.

She sighed when she felt his arms tighten around her, gathering her into his very own circle of love and care.

"It feels so right, doesn't it?" She murmured against his skin.

"You and me?"

"Yes."

"It does, sweetheart."

This was it, then. This was the moment.

She sat up to pull open the drawer of her nightstand and fetched out a small item, wrapped in red-heart gift wrap.

"I have something for you," she said and handed it to him.

A mixture of enthusiasm and nervousness radiated from her.

"What is it?" He asked, curious, his lips twitched into a smile.

"Open it and you'll find out."

He carefully tore open the wrap to reveal a key.

"You've already moved into my heart, Raymond," she spoke, her voice fluttering with emotion.

"Would you like to move into my house as well?"

He stared at her and stayed silent.

The silence stretched between them for what seemed like an eternity, because his heart seemed to burst with the love for her, leaving him stunned, speechless, breathless, and utterly amazed.

Liz wanted to scream with the terrible tension. Was he going to reject her? Did her offer come too soon?

"I mean, you really should move out of that awful motel you're staying at."

She paused.

"You're here most of your free time anyway."

She sighed.

"So, I thought …

"I really want you here, you know? But if you think I'm going too fast…"

The slight flush to her cheeks and the way she rambled on and on was the most endearing thing in this world, but he had to put her out of her misery.

"I'd like that very much, Lizzy," he rasped, deeply moved by the request.

Tears of relief and happiness pooled in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks.

"I love you, Dr. Reddington," she whispered, sealing her vow of love in a passionate kiss.

Epilogue:

7 years later

Little Agnes came running into her parent's bedroom.

"Mommy, daddy, I'm itching so bad," she cried, hopping onto the bed, wiggling her way between the adults, waking them up.

Agnes scratched her arms, big crocodile tears running down her face.

"Oh no." Liz groaned, looking helplessly at her husband, Raymond.

Raymond sat up and leaned against the headboard, pulling Agnes onto his lap to examine her.

Both cheeks were covered with a spotted rash. He raised Agnes' pajama top and found a similar rash on her back and belly. Holding his palm to her forehead, he checked her temperature.

"You're sick, honey," he told his little girl and gently wiped her tears away with his thumb.

"Chickenpox?" Liz asked and he nodded.

"Yes. She has a fever too."

Liz got up from the bed. "I'll get the thermometer," she said and hurried into the bathroom.

"There's Calamine lotion in my doctor's bag, Lizzy," he called after her.

"I'll bring it."

Agnes snuggled up against Raymond's chest and he held her, offering the comfort she needed.

"No school for you for a while."

Liz went downstairs to grab the lotion, then opened the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, feeling like she was having one those weird déjà vu moments.

Knowing very well what Agnes had to go through, she grew upset and worried.

She checked the contents of the Tylenol bottle and looked for the thermometer, then headed back.

Returning to the bedroom with the requested items, Raymond noticed Liz's troubled expression, the lines of worry that carved along her eyes and forehead.

"She'll be fine, sweetheart," he told her to soothe her nerves. "She isn't as sick as you were."

Liz knew she could trust him; he was still a doctor after all.

"I'll stay home with her for the next few days and take care of her, ok?"

"Okay," she agreed, feeling not so heavy on the heart anymore. "I'll get ready for work then."

A while later, Liz emerged from the bathroom, showered and dressed, and she peeked her head into the bedroom to watch her two loved ones.

Raymond had covered Agnes thoroughly in Calamine lotion. Now she was tucked in by his side and he thumbed through her favorite fairy tale book.

"That red mushroom looks like you." He told her, pointing on the white-dotted cap of the toadstool.

"No, I'm the princess." Agnes complained vehemently, and Raymond laughed.

"Okay then. So, who am I?" he asked her curiously.

"You are the big bad wolf."

"What?!" Raymond faked indignation, making Agnes giggle.

"You do know what the big bad wolf does, don't you?"

"No." She shook her head.

"He eats little princesses!"

Raymond snarled and bared his teeth, then playfully snapped at Agnes' belly to nuzzle and tickle her there.

She squealed in delight and giggled even more, trying to push him away.

Liz came in then, squatted down beside the bed and laughed with them.

"I gotta go," she said regretfully.

Raymond leaned toward her to kiss her goodbye.

"Ewww! You're kissing on the lips! That's yucky!" Agnes exclaimed, making a disgusted face.

"No, honey, that's love, and I love your daddy very much."

"You kissed Tommy in school," Raymond told Agnes. I saw it."

"Tommy is the prince," she justified.

"Well, daddy is mine." Liz said smiling at them both, then rose from the floor.

For some reasons, Raymond's mushy heart swelled at her words. He loved his wife so much, loved his little girl and loved the family life they'd created.

"Have a good day, Lizzy. I love you too," he called softly after her when she turned to leave.

"Bye mommy!" Agnes chimed in.

"If you promise me that you won't scratch anymore, baby, you can have ice cream for breakfast," she heard Raymond say on her way out.

"Once mommy is gone," he added whispering, but loud enough for Liz to hear.

Agnes nodded eagerly. "I promise."

Liz smiled and knew he was going to spoil her rotten. But that's what he did to her as well all these years ago, didn't he?

He was the perfect man, the perfect father and she loved him endlessly.

The End


End file.
